White Dogs: Perversity
by SilverQuick
Summary: [SessKag] How could someone who spent so much time destroying now be someone who spent their time creating?
1. Prologue: Puppets of Perversity

**White Dogs: Perversity.**

Rating: PG-13, R for some parts.

Song Used: Leave by Matchbox 20

Genre: Everything left of the middle. Beware the dry wit. And sarcasm, could be dangerous to your health.

Warnings: What could I possibly warn you of that you haven't already read?

Disclaimer: Dis: Not. Claim: Mine. Ergo: I don't own, darnitall.

A.N: Also, I've taken it upon my integrity as a writer to be a GOOD writer and have, therefor, taken the time to re-write this story. So, here is the renaissance of my belov'd tale. Thank you.

Summary: Kagome finally lifts the blindfold from her eyes and now understand where exactly she stands in the triangle between her incarnation, Inuyasha and herself. There comes a point in everyone's life where you reach a fork in the road, and Kagome has reached said point. So which road will she choose? The road well traveled, the one less taken or will she go on to make her own path?

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Perverse: marked by a position to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is considered right or good or proper. **Forward; untoward; wayward; stubborn; ungovernable; intractable cross; petulant; vexatious**.

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"Because human beings are inherently perverse. They'll project perversity into anything they look upon. The perversity's in our perceptions, not in the thing perceived- which is to say, it's in us." Matt; excerpt from Her Majesty's Wizard.

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**Prologue: Puppets of Perversity.**

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There is a capacity in every creature to cause harm whether it is to another creature or to it's environment. We hurt the most those that we love, or those that love us- intentionally or not. When one loves someone, one gives them an unquestionable amount of power over oneself. The power to make one happy or the power to make one sad. Love was a double edged blade that could cut both ways, and it would do so indiscriminately.

She just didn't understand. Wait. That wasn't it exactly. Perhaps it was that she understood it all too well. In fact, she more then understood; she _knew_. Now, she could finally see why ignorance had been termed as 'bliss' by so many. Knowledge was the key to power, or so they had said. _They_ always failed to mention that power and knowledge came with a terrible price.

The price that was hers to pay had been her ability to pretend nothing had changed inside of herself. Something had irrevocably altered within her breast and she could not pretend it hadn't happened nor could she go back. She could never go back. The bridge she'd crossed had burned.

Kagome knew this now and understood it as much as any mortal could. By the Gods, it hurt like hell. This knowing… knowing the reason he seemed to be able to turn off whatever emotions he felt towards her with nary a thought to how she would feel. To hide himself from her so well, when she herself was as naked emotionally to his eyes as he was not to hers. He had the protection of bitterness and hate. What protection did she have? Whatever protection she could patch together was ripped away in gale force winds whenever those amber eyes locked with hers. She was the new born babe left in the fury of his tempest. And, she knew it. This made it worse. Knowing but being powerless to stop it.

_It's amazing,  
How you make your face just like a wall_

There were times he'd show her his tender side; then he'd ruin the moment by pushing her away. He'd be kind, only to turn and berate her for being who she'd been born as. As though it was all her fault that she had been birthed with the soul of the woman he had loved fifty years in his past, five hundred and fifty in hers; a soul with a past she wouldn't live up to because she had her own future to live. To tell her how worthless of an imitation she was; as though she herself were to blame for her lack of training. It wasn't like she could help that. The future did, after all, depend solely on technology to eradicate demons which more or less came in the form of a virus or a disease. It had no true need for priests or priestesses; they did little more then manage the upkeep of old traditions.

_How you take your heart and turn it off _

It was clear to her now. She understood why it hurt so badly when he spat those cruelly edged words at her. The verbal daggers were enough to even slit the pale throats of souls. Though Kagome had always fancied herself as a strong-hearted girl that didn't mean that she was totally immune to his careless barbs. Far from it, actually. No one was truly immune to love or the pain it could bring. No matter how strong one was, they were bound to start loosing their foothold. She was loosing hers. '_Or…_,' she thought, '_Maybe I've already lost it._'

_How I turn my head and loose it all_

Each time he had held a mirror to her flaws and listed Kikyou's many, marvelous virtues, she had turned away from him, or had silenced him with a "_sit_" and hoped that afterwards his nose was too clogged with earth to catch wind of her tears. She had tried so hard to hide her humanity, her vulnerability and inherent weaknesses.

She was so tired of being hurt time and time again, just as she was entirely disgusted with herself for being so weak. At first, Kagome just didn't get why his casual insults seemed to find their way straight to her heart and lance it with pain. Why every time he left her behind to go to Kikyou, she'd feel so wrong inside. It made her feel like such a fool.

Now... now she knew. After all, only fools fall in love with someone that would never love them in return. Only fools fall in love. Period. Exclamation mark. Case over. Next victim.

Of course, as perversity would have it, hiding the tears did no good whatsoever either. The evidence of them always made their way over the air currents and to his nose. She knew that as well, but hid it with a smile. How many times had she cried? Had they honestly been so many that she had lost count? Or were they so few, but still so degrading and painful that she chose to forget them? Hidden with a smile or a sit, she had cried and they all knew.

_It's unnerving  
How just one moves puts me by myself_

There were the times when he left her even after he had promised her. Apparently, however, breaking a promise to her was easily done with nary an after thought. Oh, but any promise made to Kikyou was kept to the very syllable. That came as a slap to the face. When he went to the very person, or more to accuracy, the golem that had attempted to kill her, drag him to hell and steal the Shikon no Tama shards that they had both slaved away to gather. Even through all that, he trusted the corpse more then he cared for her. So, promises made to her were pie-crust promises. Easily made and easily broken.

As well as easily forgotten.

_There you go just trusting someone else  
Now I know I put us both through hell _

It could all be traced back to one reason alone. All of it; the heartache, the tears, the broken promises. It was all for love. This so called emotion was supposedly all sunshine and happiness, warm and fuzzy hugs from that special someone in front of a blazing fire that kept the darkness of the night at bay. The emotion that was credited for being beautiful and safe. _Love._

What was 'love'? Why should there have been an emotion such as love? It only seemed to bring more pain then it was worth. Person A could fall in love with person B and both share this wondrous feeling…then Person B would fall out of love and Person A was left loving..as well as holding the pieces of a heart that would never be the same again. Person A's love could go unrequited and that would slowly break them over time. Or, Person A could watch the person they love with every iota of their being, stay so in love with the one that had tried countless times to destroy them.

Why was love held so highly? It wasn't safe. Love was deadly; the most potent poison that went straight to the heart. Take Romeo and Juliet. They had been love's playthings and they in the end played the fools that Love had fashioned them into.

Love only made one vulnerable.

_I'm not saying  
There wasn't something wrong_

Perhaps it was only her, something was wrong with her. Some trait that made her love more pain than peace. All love ever seemed to bring her was a swirling miasma of dark thunderclouds with lancing bolts of pain that struck her straight to the quick. There never seemed to be any good in the emotion for her. Or, if there was, it was negated by his harsh words. One slip of sunshine in the eye of the storm then it's fury was doubled and she was left again, bereft of shelter.  
Was she truly of less worth than that clay amalgumation's memory? Why was she not good enough?

_'I'm alive and I'm here, waiting...'_ Was that not enough?

_I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me_

If only there was a may to make him love her, she'd do it in a half a heartbeat. She wished in vain that it was that simple, for no matter what she did, he'd still never truly see her. That was what tore her heart the most. All she'd ever be to him was the pale shadow of a past love that was taken away from him prematurely. Kagome would never be herself to him. She'd be a reincarnation.

Nothing more, and always less.

They say that sticks and stones may shatter bones but words could never hurt you. This was a lie fed to children when they were in tears from a bully's cruelty. The truth was that words held just as much destructive power as any weapon did, if not more so. They could reach your soul, which was untouchable to any sword, dagger or gun. She had been brought to the breaking point so many times by just his words alone it was getting harder and harder to pull herself back from the edge. The girl was beginning to fear for herself.

How much of herself would she loose to him before she was lost entirely? Would he possess everything she was till there was nothing left for herself? Till he did to her what Kikyou was now doing to him?

_I'm not saying  
We ever had the right to hold on_

This love was wrong. It was a contradiction to everything she had ever read about the emotion. It was more of an addiction then anything. She needed him, and it was driving her further into darkness, this need.

She was so sick and tired of putting herself on a platter for him. He didn't see her.

They said love was blind. How true. Her love saw nothing but the cliché man in him. Dashing, heroic, if not a little loud mouthed and crude, yet since love was essentially blind, no faults could be seen. In Love's eyes, he was the proverbial knight in shining armor to her dainty damsel in distress. As such, it made her weak and dependant on his strength; caused her to crave his touch however rough or involuntary that it was and it seized her heart when those amber orbs of his met her own gaze.

It made her _vulnerable_ when she didn't have to be.

_I just didn't wanna let it get away from me_

He never once saw her and had probably never truly seen her. What he did see was a woman that had been killed fifty years ago. The man saw a second best prize. Not quite as good as the original (as he had been quick to point out time and time again) but, well, beggars can't be choosers now can they?  
Perhaps...he did care about her beyond the fact that she was the only one who could sense the shards. Or was this hoping for too much? She was only good for that one thing. Anything else and she was hardly anything special to him.

His voice echoed through the hallows of her mind: "_Feh. She's just a stupid shard detector."_

He'd left again.

No doubt it was because he had caught the scent of a certain other woman. Thus, here she was, fighting back the tears and trying to get her school uniform off of her body so she could seek the comfort of a hot spring. Left to worry about him because for all his strength he was as helpless against love as she was. Her fingers trembled so badly she couldn't manage the buttons. It was proof enough of his effect on her.

Here she was, vulnerable in every sense of the word. Vulnerable and miserable.

_But if that's how its gonna leave  
Straight out from underneath   
Then we'll see who's sorry now_

It made her feel so worthless to be shoved aside and forgotten entirely because Kikyou was in the general vicinity of his scent-range. As soon as Kikyou was even so much as hinted at Kagome became invisible to him. He only chose to be around her when it was convenient for him or if there was ramen involved.  
She was merely a tool for him to use, or, if he felt like it, a pretty little bauble to look at.

Like a worn and faded photograph that could never do the true thing justice. Something to gaze at and reminisce about only. The stand-in puppet for another in a movie she had no heart to act in anymore.

There were times when she could almost believe he was seeing her, protecting her…and then she'd know. He wasn't seeing her at all.  
The knife had been firmly throned in her heart and when it suited him, he twisted the blade and pushed it a little deeper.

Words rang in her mind from a poem she had once read; it had a struck a chord in her at the time she had read it and she remembered feeling sorry for the poet. The poem had been short, but sad.

"_This dagger will dig deep and find the ruby liquid in it's keep,  
And therein that liquid shall rush to the fore of my breast and spill my life so wondrously  
For my love is the blade and it will be the death of me." _

Ironic that the raw little poem fit her so well now. Her pity for the poet was now empathy.

What was she to him anyways? His fall-back crutch; the girl he can return to if all else goes wrong? Or rather, _who_ was she? Kagome or Kikyou? God, could he even choose which one he loved; though it was rather obvious to any fool who cared to read the book. You didn't even have to read between the lines.

_Kikyou, Kikyou..never Kagome._ The answer was there and it haunted her.

_The one you're leaving now  
The one you're leaving out_

She was following him in blind obedience, dragging her aching heart in the mud, doing tricks and bending over backwards to gain his attention, being his friend, comforting him as best she could, climbing cliffs for him, reaching for the stars for him, everything she could possibly think of to show him her love, the painful bittersweet ache her heart held for him.

And all he could do was look between her and Kikyou with a stumped expression on his roguish face. He couldn't choose between a young breathing woman with only her heart and her love to offer or a dead, living corpse who only offered hell and eternal damnatio, in guilt for a crime he never commited. Love or Honor. Life or Death.

_It's aggravating  
How you threw me on _

Kagome, and the heart inside of her, knew and understood. One such as InuYasha could not turn his back on honor and duty for something like love. Especially not when he once loved, and still loved, the one to whom he owed so much. The injustice of it was bitter and jagged in her throat and behind her eyes. She felt it so unfair that she could understand him so well, love him so much, need him so only to know that if it came down to it, she would step aside for him knowing that she'd never be what he wanted. It was unfair to be so selfless.

A tear burned it's salty brand down her cheek and soon after, another followed. And another, down the other cheek. She sobbed, shoulders trembling at the sick feeling inside of her as she began to break again.

_And tore me out  
How your good intentions turn to doubt  
The way you needed time to sort it out_

_Stop! Stop it! Suck it up. Be strong. You can't let even the slightest crack appear in your armor otherwise you're going to shatter just like that. If you break now, you'll never be able to fix yourself. So, please, for the sake of your heart, just stop…please…why did it have to hurt so much? Why does it hurt? Can't it just stop? I don't want to cry anymore…_

Her legs were getting weaker…she couldn't hold herself up anymore. Just one more thing her 'love' had robbed her of. The strength to stand on her own power.

Why? Why was she so desperate for his love that she allowed herself to become so fragile? She'd break, fix herself, paste on a sweet smile, then despite the ache throughout her being, get back in the ring for another go.

Masochistic. That's what she was. If she could get nothing else from him then pain was enough to keep her stable. The funny part was, no one really knew how much she hurt. To them, she was bright and cheerful. Though she cried.

Oh yes, it was bloody well hilarious. Bet the deities upstairs were having a jolly good riot with this big, gold cosmic joke. The classic love triangle with a wicked little twist. My, had she gotten bitter. What happened to her optimism? Perchance it had given up the ghost when it had learned the hard way that no matter how many times she looked on the bright side, there would always be the storm waiting to batter her again.

It hovered over her shoulder, black and beastial. Waiting. Always waiting.

_Tell me is that how it's going to end_

Kagome wanted nothing more then for everyone she loved to be happy, but was a little sliver of happiness for herself too much to ask for? She wished desperately to go back to the bliss ignorance gave her; things were easier and uncomplicated when you didn't see the world entirely and didn't know that it was hurting you. She had dreams once of a knight in shining armor carrying her away. Those dreams had changed, and soon she realized that in her fairy tale, she would always be second best. They were no longer dreams, but were now nightmares.

_When you know you've been depending on  
The one you're leaving now   
The one you're leaving out_

When she didn't know, she'd been chipper and upbeat. It hadn't been an act that was beginning to cost her more and more precious energy to keep up. Her responsibility for the jewel, her friends, her little adopted cub, and schoolwork weighed her down. And for some reason, it kept getting heavier. She was falling behind in school so swiftly it made her head swim.

_The one you're leaving now  
The one you're leaving out_

Was this how Kikyou felt when the jewel was in her possession? The great curse that the power of the jewel brought, as well as the protection the village needed, the duty to be an elder sister and mentor to the rest of her protectorates?

Ugh. If he didn't drive her to an early grave, the stress and worry would. Well, okay, fine. She'd deal with that like she always did. And he'd insult her like he always did. And she'd fight back as she always did. And he'd run off and abandon her as he was wont to. And she'd carry on as she always did. And he'd come back and try to lie to her, and he'd have a nice and personal visit with terra firma. It was routine. They'd continue to fight against each other, he'd continue protecting the Kikyou in her and she'd continue to gather the shards for him. Without so much as a Thank you, might she add.

_I'm not saying there wasn't nothing wrong  
I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me_

However, one thing would change. No longer would love rule her. There was only so much one heart could take before it gave up and let go. Kagome knew her heart had crossed that line.

_But if that's how it's gonna leave  
Straight out from underneath  
Then we'll see who's sorry now  
If that's how it's gonna stand, when   
You know you've been depending on  
The one you're leaving now   
The one you're leaving out._

Knowledge may have been pain, and she may long for the blissful ignorance she once lived in, but she'd gained a new perspective on her life. With these new eyes, she'd decided she was going to take a step back from the love triangle and let the tables turn without her. She was going to release herself from the brutal web of pain love had woven for her and step down from her demented carousel of hurt. Kagome had had just about all the love she could stand. No more. Just… no more pain.

She wasn't going to be the victim anymore. It was someone else's turn, whatever poor sucker that happened to be.

The un-trained miko leaned her head back against the rock behind her, eyes on the stars.

"Did you think I had an unbreakable heart?" her whisper carried on the breeze, up and away to wherever said breeze went. Perhaps her words would be carried to Inuyasha. Maybe he'd even have the state of mind to know it was her that had spoken them. The hanyou was dense when it came to matters of the heart, obviously. Otherwise her story would have the fairy tale ending it was supposed to have. The whole happily ever after thing. That would be nice. Well, it would be more then just nice, it would be Heaven. Oh, between Heaven and the Hell she was in now, she had no problems with choosing. She, of course, was not blinded by guilt and a past that should've stayed just that.

There was little one could do against guilt she knew, but it wasn't Inuyasha's emotion to harbor. It was a burden that Naraku should have born; yet, as she had learned, life was never fair. Naraku did what he pleased with no conscience to choke him or control his hand.

'_Naraku_'. Her eyes narrowed in reflex. Naraku had been the catalyst for the past 50 years of torment, the beginning of heartache. If Kagome had been capable of hating, she would have hated him. As it were, she only sought to remedy his wrongs. Naraku had been her beginning. She planned on being his end.

She stood and waded to the center of the spring, standing completely still in the water she waited for it to settle then looked upon her reflection solemnly. It was not '_Kikyou_' that she saw, but it was not entirely '_Kagome_' either.

It was someone who loved too strongly for her own good. Someone who cared too much, felt too deeply and gave too freely of herself.

_Tell me is that how it's going to end  
When you know you've been depending on  
The one you're leaving now  
And the one you're leaving out  
The one you're leaving now  
The one you're leaving out._

But now, everything she had to give had given out.


	2. Chapter One: The love that Shatters You

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, but there's very little to none in this chapter.

Song-fic: Song used….

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Sometimes the storm of emotions needs to be let out. Kagome goes for a run and rages about how unfair her life is and all else. Then she cries. It's a typical girl thing to do when you feel like shit. And, she follows her decision. 

A.N.: Okay, here's the bad news. Unless of course it's a false alarm. Bad news is that I don't know what's wrong with the formatting on my computer. Either that or there's something wrong on ff.net's side that makes my computer retarded. So, hopefully, the format will be good. If not, well, all I can do is beg you to try cutting and pasting this chapter into word and reading it there. Or suffer through it with me. But keep in mind that I will love you like whoa should you choose to suffer through it with me and leave me praise. 

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"Love is destructive. If love does not shatter you, you know not love."

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Chapter One: The Love that Shatters You. 

" I am not Kikyou!!!" Kagome's voice was strained…  as if she was trying to keep from yelling. Which she was. Silence was the only answer she received. 

Inuyasha had frozen the instant the name had left her lips, his tirade instantly forgotten. He stared at her. 

Kagome closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcibly unclenching her fists from where they had curled at her sides. She slowly pushed the tension from her body. Releasing the breath, she opened her eyes and glared at Inuyasha. 

"I will never amount to Kikyou?" Deep breath, "Fine, I don't care. I'm not her. I never _will_ be her. I don't even want to be her. Why can't you understand that? I'm Kagome. No one else." She took another deep breath, feeling the anger and pain clash in her breast. "I can't be someone I never was, Inuyasha. I can't be someone who's dead. DEAD!!" 

Inuyasha seemed to regain the ability to speak and opened his mouth to do so when Kagome hissed a sharp, "Don't!" 

He shut up promptly. Too shocked to do anything but stare at her. 

She started towards him, paused a foot away and stared up into his amber eyes. The smoke blue of her own searched his eyes for something in him. Her small hand reached down to his clawed one and brought it to her chest, placing it just over her heart. It was beating strongly, a deep and steady rhythm that spoke of life and spirit. Again her eyes found his, causing him to look up from his hand. Whatever it was she was searching for, she must have found. "My heart beats. Does hers? No. Her heart stopped beating fifty years ago. When she was resurrected, it was not. The only thing that sustains her now is her hatred. What do you think keeps me here with you?" She backed away from him, tearing her hand away from her and letting it go. And cursed herself for nearly telling him that she loved him. She basically had anyways, but she counted on his density to keep that from him for the moment.

"…" He had nothing to say. What could he say to that? He didn't know. Whatever he could say would not help anyways. He'd only dig himself deeper. 

In the background, Sango, Shippou and Miroku watched with intent gazes. They'd sensed the proverbial storm on the horizon, and proceeded with caution whereas Inuyasha went ahead in his typical fashion. Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. Or arrows, since they didn't know what torpedoes were yet. 

Of course, the battle did provide ample distraction for Miroku to play upon. His hand made the journey past enemy lines seeking to reach its target. 

Sango barely blinked and Miroku was down twitching in pain, but grinning dazedly all the same. Target acquired and reached. Sacrifices had been made but well, a headache had been worth the bliss. Five seconds of it as it were. Bliss was bliss. 

As he watched the little dancing Sangoes twirl about his head, he reviewed why the fight had started off. Inuyasha, being his usual _charming_ self had made a snide comment about something or other that Kagome couldn't do as well as Kikyou. He'd been more or less…preoccupied by a certain rhythm that mother nature had…like the sway of female hips…ahhhh…Oh, yes, that's right. Fight. Not hips. Mind out of gutter. But it was such a nice gutter…gahh.

…Ahem. Where the fight had started had been just outside the village, the opposite side of the well. That was when Inuyasha had to gain the last word in the verbal spar that he and Kagome were having concerning the late rumor of a shard which had turned out to be nothing more then a grain of truth. That truth being that of a …well, to say the least Inuyasha was _hardly_ amused. 

Back in the foreground, Kagome had put a good amount of air-space between her and Inuyasha. With good reason, Inuyasha was beginning to look a tad peeved. Just a tad. He was still floundering for a foothold in the now one-sided argument and reached for the first thought that came to mind. Petty revenge, using something he knew that would strike her deep. 

"Your right! You'll never be Kikyou. When Kikyou was alive she was twice the person you are now. Hell, she still is!" It was a low blow, and a lame one at that, but it hit hard and it hit true.

Kagome sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, looking as though she'd just been shot through the heart. Maybe that was not too far from the truth. Even though it shouldn't have hurt her as much as it did, his statements cut her to the quick. 

Inuyasha ploughed on, regardless of how pale Kagome got with each new insult and mocking word he spilled upon her.  

Finally, she held up her hands and opened her eyes. She cut him off mid word. " I give up." 

Inuyasha froze again at how broken and...dead she sounded. Listlessly, she turned her back to him. Every line in her body spoke of forfeit. Of defeat. She had…given up? He stared. Impossible. She was kidding right? Kagome never gave up. 

" I wonder if you'll ever stop trying to turn me into Kikyou and just let me be Kagome." The softly spoken words reached out to him, caressed his ears then snaked into his heart and slammed against its walls with a vehement ferocity. 

She left.

……………………***…………….. 

Her pale form flashed through the village, gathering assorted glances or stares from the villagers before they went on with their lives. They were familiar with Kagome's strange habits. 

Soon enough she reached the forest edge and vanished into the foliage. Life went on. So did Kagome. 

Her legs carried her weight easily enough over the worn path. The memory of that last battle spurred her on. One foot barely touched the ground before it was lifted again. The belated anger and pain also drove her on. Would that she had felt them earlier when she could have used to fuel to give back the pain as good as she had gotten…

 The muscles of her legs ached, and they screamed till she was tempted to scream right along with them. But she didn't. Pride wouldn't let her give voice to her turmoil till she was certain that no one would hear her. She would break down in peace. Somewhere _far_ away from him. 

Anger curled and boiled in the pit of her belly, and she gritted her teeth, stretching close to the ground and pouring on the speed. She was probably going to hurt herself or pull a muscle or something but she was beyond caring at the moment. 

How could he!? He had no right treating her like…like _that_! Grrrr! She wasn't a replacement for someone else. Kagome was who she was, not someone else. And…she just wanted him to realize that. Was that too much?

The miko's swift pace slowed, and finally she was only walking, her mind lost in thought as her body carried her forward regardless of her preoccupied state. Nonetheless though, she was winded. So, breathing hard she walked. 

The path was a familiar one, she'd walked it many a time before. It was the path that lead to the well. She'd reached a decision, and she was if nothing else going to follow through with it. One had to know when to step back and take a breather and watch the game from a different vantage point. 

Not to mention, being away from Inuyasha and the Sengoku Jidai would give her the time she needed to make like Houdini and release herself from the barbed wire and chains wrapped around her heart. She needed to reclaim who she was, and she couldn't do that when in the past where Kikyou's shadow still fell over her. In the future she was known only as Kagome. And that was where she'd find Kagome once again and become herself. No more Kikyou for a while. Or ever again if her wish would be granted…

Though she'd be shirking her duties to the Shikon; and this really pained her, but there were no more shards on the loose therefore no rampant youkai destroying lives. Naraku had the ones she didn't. Though she wanted desperately to go after him and stop him, she could not. Not till she had her identity back, till she was ready. It would do no good to go off and jump the gun. That would only accomplish an early death for herself.

She snorted. Stupid wench was she? Well, she wasn't the one that jumped into the chase without finding the rabbit. She paused her walk, chewing on her bottom lip, then started again.

After countless jaunts up and down this path, Kagome was more then certain that she could be blind-folded, spun around several times and placed on it, pointed in the right direction of course, and still be able to walk her way along it well enough. Perhaps she'd run into a few trees here and there, but she'd be able to traverse it relatively well enough. She was talented that way. 

Insecurity crept up her spine like little demons intent on making a home in her mind. They jittered that that was _all_ she was good at. After all her, her love said so, wasn't he right? 

No! He wasn't. She was worth more then a memory. 

Shaking her head, she came to a stop in the clearing that held the well, a portal to the gates of time. 

_~Yes, go back, run home to your mother and forget all the pain the past had given you. All the agony he's given. Run like a coward~_, the demons cackled at her, tore at the walls of her mind and danced about with violent glee. Her clouded eyes slammed shut and she clamped her hands over her ears, but she refused to fall to her knees.

_~Shut up! Shut UP! I am not running. Even if I wanted to I couldn't. I have to pull myself back together. You're not going to taunt me. Go! Get out of my head!~_

Their voices faded, though the word _coward_ still echoed in the far corners of her being. Fading, and then were gone. 

She straitened, swallowed and forced her suddenly heavy legs to take her towards the well. It couldn't be helped, but as she came closer to the well, her heart clenched in guilt. Though it was a course she needed to take, she felt she going to be abandoning Shippou and her friends. Not to mention Inuyasha. Her heart quailed at the thought, but she firmly told it to shut up as well. 

But she wasn't going to be gone forever. She'd be back. After she'd healed enough to take up the burden once again. 

After an eternity and a moment, she reached the well's edge and peered into he abyss with something akin to longing and apprehension. Her eyes blurred and a tear fell to the darkness. It was then she realized that she'd been crying for quite a while. Her cheeks bore the testament as the air that hit the trails of salted liquid. She brushed the back of her hand over her eyes a few times to erase them as well as she could. 

The well was waiting. She needed to go home. Her smile was weak, but it was there as she looked up at the sky and closed her eyes to take a deep breath. ~_Just for a little while~_, she promised herself silently and jumped. 

An ancient magic caught her and curled about her in a gentle cocoon to deliver her through time safely. Her eyes drifted shut as she reveled in the weightless sensations; there was nothing else she could name that felt like this. It was a wonderful feeling, a soothing balm to the pain that she'd been in. 

And it was over all to soon. Lesson number one, Happiness comes in short doses. Savor what you get and move on with life. And hope to god that next does came soon.

Lesson well noted and moving on with life, thank you. Hoping now.

Hand over hand she climbed up the ladder and into the well house. With a deep breath she took in the Tokyo air and felt her nose wrinkle in distaste. Nothing could beat the fresh, untainted air either. 

Well, home waited. 

Kagomestarted walking. Five steps to the door she froze. And slapped a hand to her forehead with a mocking grin that she certainly didn't feel. 

"Dammit. I forgot my bag."   Dry look over shoulder. " Well, no use crying over spilt milk. Sango will take care of it for me." 

The door opened and the head of a certain younger sibling poked out, curious as to who was making those noises… 

"Kagome! You back!" He zipped out the door and glomped her. 

Yes, she thought, wrapping her arms about her brother's shoulders. Here, Kikyo was nothing more then a fairy tale that no one had read and Kagome was real. 

Souta poked her in the ribs, bringing her from her thoughts efficiently. "Okaa-san's made oden." 

Kagome perked up, "Well, then. What are we waiting for? Oden beckons." Arm draped over his shoulders, she lead him inside and shut the door with her foot. 

There was truly no place like home. Or a brother's love to make the pain go away, though she knew it would be back later. She'd deal with it then. Right now, she was going to spend time with her family. Something that she'd been unable to do for a while. 

_____________________________________________ 

Frustration. Artist's rut had to be the most aggravating thing aside from his moronic half brother that he'd ever had the misfortune to encounter. How long had he been staring at the blank sketchpad again? Lately there had been nothing of inspiration for him, but he'd been able to over come that little obstacle many times before. Why not now? What was so different now? Quite frankly, he mused dryly, he was going to go mad if he couldn't do something with that canvas soon. He was going stir crazy, frantic with the need to paint but unable to find the perfect outlet for it. Not even clearing his mind and waiting for the masterpiece to solidify was helping. 

The blank canvas mocked him and he glared at it balefully while chastising himself for giving an inanimate object a personification. Canvas could not mock him…but he could certainly burn it. Or melt it. It was very tempting, but would be a waste of both canvas and the toxins that made up his venom claws. 

He stared down at his hands. Draw them? Frown. He was not that desperate. Besides, he shot a glassy look over to the other sketches he had done out of pure frustration. All were of his hands in various poses. All were going to burn one of these cold nights. Great kindling. He cracked his knuckles and went back to staring at the blank canvas. 

Waiting. Nothing. All right. Very well. Patience. Wait some more. Still nothing. Resist urge to rip canvas into pieces and toss them to the four winds. He drummed his fingers on the desk, then ran one hand through his hair. Repeat. 

It was…nice to have two arms again. About four hundred, a little less then five hundred really, he'd grown back the lost appendage. Before which, Inuyasha had been dragged to hell with the miko abomination. Well, may hap, merrily skipped to hell would have been a more appropriate metaphor.  It probably was because the other miko had vanished suddenly and had not been there to stop him. What a waste. His brother was weak if he allowed himself to tricked in such a way. The girl was obviously moderately intelligent. Quite the mystery, that girl. What had she been called? Oh yes, Kagome. An intriguing creature. Powerful as well, but untrained. Which made her a walking time bomb. From what he'd gathered, she was a volatile little thing and either very foolish, or very brave. 

Very few had ever dared to defy him. The few that did had all been youkai, no humans had ever even thought of standing up to him. She was the first human, much less a female one, to ever stare him in the eye and not turn tail and run away screaming bloody murder. It had gained her his respect. Grudging respect albeit. 

As they continued to cross paths and she continued to surprise him that grudging respect morphed into something else he didn't dare put a name to. Obsession, perhaps. He stood up from his desk and gladly escaped the white mocking of the canvas. With a languid stretch he padded from said desk towards the large bay windows of his high-rise abode. Modern day Tokyo lay before him, shimmering buildings and frenzied beings crawling through their mundane lives. 

Gods how he longed for the past. When he didn't have to hide his true nature and appearance behind a new appearance and an alias. When he was the ruler of all that he surveyed. 

The present held no interest for him. Writing tales of his adventures and selling them as fantasies may have made the yen but it certainly was a droll existence. He'd seen all the world had to offer twice over and found it to be nothing spectacular. A few exceptions here and there but otherwise about as exiting as a snail on angel dust.

He yearned for a good challenge. And he was not talking about that canvas. _That_ could go to hell in a hand basket. 

Once more he lifted his hands to his eyes to study them. By human standards, they were male. Though the nails were a little longer then the norm even though they were retracted. His markings, and his overall appearance had not been altered through time. He was still, by all means, Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western lands and second in status to none. But, to any one else he was a slender, but strong young man with oddly hued green-gold eyes, spiked platinum blonde hair with bangs that framed his face and a serious disposition who went by the name of Wasuremono, Hitori. Author and artist, a young genius that any major organization would slit throats to get their hands on.  Universities, colleges, businesses, blah blah blah. 

For the sake of survival, Sesshoumaru had faded into the shadows and Hitori had stepped forward. A nice little trick he'd developed a long time ago. All higher youkai such as he had the ability to shape shift. It came in handy. He could become anyone. 

Idly,  hismind turned back to the girl and he wondered what had become of Kagome as he went back to the canvas. Had her own power destroyed her? Or had she finally reached the age of reason and left Inuyasha to return to wherever it was she had come from?

She was an anomaly as far as human nature went. One that had captured both his attention and respect, and now left him with a mystery to solve. 

Before he'd even realized it, Sesshoumaru had sketched something upon the formally blank canvas. His hand dropped to allow him an unobstructed view of his work.

He was startled to find that it was a portrait of Kagome as she had appeared every time she'd ever faced him. The fire in her eyes was nearly alive for all that it was a crude drawing. Her chin was lifted stubbornly, jaw clenched, shoulders thrown back with a regality he'd not known any human to possess. 

"Oh, bloody hell. It would just figure that she'd be the one to draw me from this rut." He traced the Kagome-sketche's features with his gaze, less than amused but more than pleased. Well, it was a start. 

He set to work with further bringing the sketch to life, afterwards he'd get rid of it or hide it away, but for now, he was not suffering from the block and that was all he really wanted. Who cared how it was achieved, it meant nothing anyways. 

He kept telling himself that.

End chapter.

________________________________________________________________


	3. Chapter Two: The Strings of Fate

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation? 

Song-fic: 

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Second thoughts are wicked little things. Good thing Kagome has a will of steel; otherwise she might have gone back to Inuyasha. However, she had made a decision. And by god she was going to stick to it. But no one ever mentioned that she would be stabbed for it! But then, being saved by a god makes up for it, don't you think?

Genre: Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  As you read through this chapter you're going to notice a few things. One of them being that Sesshoumaru is acting a tad OOC. That's to be expected. He's dry humor is just the remedy to counter balance Kagome's angst. Otherwise we'd all be drowning in it. Another is that when in Kagome's point of view my writing style will differ from when it's in Sesshoumaru's. Which is also to be expected. They are two different people thus two different flavors. Also, keep in mind that five hundred years is a long time, and time has this quirky thing about changing things. Sesshoumaru has passed the 'I shall kill you all' stage of his life and has walked into what is termed the 'I am greatly amused by you insignificant peons' stage. And his mind tends to pinwheel off to all these random subjects. One could say this is a sign of old age…

_________________________________ 

"I never thought of taking the place of your lost love, nor would I wish to, for if ever you choose to keep me in your heart, I want that place to be called as my own." –Pau.

________________________

Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

____________________________________________  

            Chapter Two: The Stings of Fate…

Kneeling on the damp, packed earth inside the well shrine Kagome stared longingly at the wooden and stone structure. Aching to go back there and yet knowing she could not. Or should not. And in all, would not. Her hands twisted in her lap much like her guilt was twisting her mind. She shifted; her feet were going numb. It had hardly been a day since she'd come home, and to her (and her guilt consumed mind) it felt more like a month. Did they miss her? Did…he miss her? Had they even noticed she was gone? Most likely. Shippou…her heart ached for him.  He must be frantic by now. They all were probably. 

She'd left her backpack there after all. No doubt Inuyasha was going to figure out she'd gone home and chase after her. Of course the backpack would throw him off, but he was a dog. He would figure it out. Despite popular belief, he wasn't entirely moronic. Just hotheaded.

Her dulled eyes drifted to the wooden cover that had been placed over the well's top, as well as the wards that decorated in random order. She had no way of knowing whether or not they worked…she'd made them herself. With a little guidance from her grandfather, of course, she had also used a bit of the knowledge that Kaede had imparted to her during some basic Miko lessons.

Oh, gods, she sincerely hoped they held… her eyes closed tightly, and she curled in her position in a sudden spasm of pain centering in her heart.  How could she ever stand to face him should he come after her? 

The familiar prickling sensation started behind her eyes as her throat tightened so as to make her breathing slightly labored. 

Bitter laughter, weak and breathy ricocheted off the sturdy shrine walls, reverberating in her ears. A lonely sound. It made her wince, and curl up tighter.

 "What have you done to me?" She whispered, "Why am I so hopeless and weak?" 

The rocking motion came naturally, a comforting to-and-fro lullaby for the body. Gentle, it calmed her a little. At least she wouldn't pass out from lack of oxygen. Deep breath, let it out slowly, inhale again and repeat.

"Why have you done this to me?" Her head snapped up, eyes smoldering with inner conflict as she hissed at the well, and beyond that _him_. 

"Why do you still hold me prisoner? Let me go!" She hated this…. This weak feeling in her body, it crippled her. How her voice broke with the force of her emotional pain. How her heart sped it's beat when she thought of him. In all truth, a part of her held hopes of the wooden cover shattering upwards in a parade of splinters and torn paper, of him bursting through the melee. And the majority was merely weary of the emotional roller coaster. __

_Quit it, Kagome. Where did your spirit go? Stand up, turn around and walk away. He is not worth it. Why love him if all that you get is this? Pain. You were never meant for pain, Kagome. He doesn't love you. _The voice, unlike the ones before, was soft and held the warmth of a father's or a mother's comfort. Something to hold onto and feel safe from everything that would ever dare harm you. For Kagome it just made her hurt all the more. 

Kagome's wheezing stalled, hitched and came out as a shuddering sob. "But, I love him…I wanted him to love me too. First loves aren't supposed to hurt this much… oh Kami-sama, it hurts…"

And she imagined that if she were to look down at her knees, she would see her heart there bleeding still, weakly pumping blood. She cringed, and turned her head away. Only to see that the pre-dusk sky had darkened considerably and was now nearly…a glance down at her wristwatch confirmed it… seven o'clock. Almost night…no moon… her heart clenched and her teeth grinded together. __

She lifted a shaky arm to her face and rubbed her eyes on the off-white cotton sleeve, dragging herself to her feet as she did so. Habit carried her out the sliding door of the shrine and lift the straps of her bag to her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her and slid the wooden door shut, and she blinked away one last tear. For now anyways. There would be more, she knew. 

Her hope was that she could just keep the mask in place long enough to hide her sorrow. 

As the miko's shadow drew away from the well house, a small sphere of moisture hit the dry, thirsty dirt and was swallowed. 

One foot in front of the other, lift the hind one and pull it forward placing in front of the other, shift weight and move another step. It was mechanical and instinctual. Kagome's body was there but no one was home. Her mind had gone elsewhere, back in time perhaps. Or maybe it was just lost somewhere in the void. Where ever it had gone to, her body carried on and it moved to the park nearest her shrine. 

A sanctuary of sorts that she'd gone to many times to think over some problem or other. May hap that was the reason she was wandering in that general direction. Habit. Again. 

Mechanics and instinct served her well as she soon stepped in the north gate of the park, which had been given a Chinese name. _Shing-Shing Park*_. Star Park. It was a fitting name, for the park's theme was that of a star. Star fountains and such peppered the good-sized area.  As well as star shaped flowers that had been brought in from somewhere east. She'd never cared to find out, content to just enjoy the fragrant blossoms and take in their delicate beauty. 

Kagome finally woke from her catatonia-like haze and blinked at her surroundings, startled.

How strange. 

Something wet slid down her cheek and dropped onto her hand. She blinked and more hot droplets careened down her cheeks some trailing down her chin others falling onto her hands and shattering like glass. Kagome stared, fascinated. 

How very strange. 

Was it possible that she hurt so much inside that she'd become numb to the pain? And that was why she did not know she'd been weeping till just now? 

The emotions had become so strong that her body wept without her knowing. 

She covered her face with her hands, biting her lip willing herself not to start crying. It didn't exactly work all that well, the hot flood of tears still fell and even when she had thought they stopped a single thought brought them gushing again. So, there she sat, all alone on the park bench, struggling through a river of tears. 

Kagome was unaware what predator stalked her, and that it was prepping itself to strike. Physical pain to balance the emotional turmoil…

 __

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Inspiration was a fickle bitch, Sesshoumaru conceded. Giving you wonderful ideas one moment, then taking them away in the next. It was not helping his mentality any that he could not seem to do anything else. He found it more than just a bit irritating. It would be just the nature of his luck, would it not? He wasn't overly amused. Not to mention, a new canvas was in order…the old one (not the one with the Kagome portrait- that had went into the deepest darkest parts of his…room, the closet to be exact) was merely a pile of scraps and shreds on the hardwood floor. 

Sesshoumaru sighed, something he never would have done even two hundred years ago.  And a habit that he found forming alarmingly fast. Frowning, he reached up and pressed the tips of his fingers to his forehead, where a headache was spawning. Oh Joy. Marvelous. 

If there was one thing about this time that he half appreciated, it was aspirin. It was a wonderful little thing really. One small capsule and thirty minutes later (provided you survived that long) you were indeed highly dandy again if not fine. No more putrid potions or other such nuisances. Honestly, one would think the healers were trying to kill you not heal you. 

It was enough to give any one a stark fear of being ill. Perhaps therein lay the point. You doubled your efforts to stay healthy and out of the doctors office. What was the saying again? 'An apple a day, keeps the doctor away'? 

However, their cough medicines could stand to undergo some drastic changes. Luckily, his youkai blood killed off any infection or viral contaminants but what with the mutating germs even his blood could not be one hundred percent effective. 

Rousing himself from nostalgia, he waltzed into the good sized and nicely furnished kitchen and sought out the bottle of pain relievers and a glass of water. 

Place pill on tongue, take a swig, tilt head back slightly and swallow. Sesshoumaru made the movements more graceful then mundane.  He leaned against the counter crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. And he waited. 

A dozen minutes past and apparently the miracle pills he had just praised had decided to punish him because the headache had only gotten worse and his ire had rose right along with it. Not only that, the pulsing behind his eyes could not be a headache…at least not a normal one. So said, something was off.  What exactly was off, he was not certain. Migraine, perhaps. 

Well, if that were the case, then the only thing he could do was suffer through it. Fresh air was also in order. Therefore a walk in the park was prominent. Very well, perhaps a little of nature's touch would get him out his rut. 

He certainly couldn't keep drawing that girl. Ignoring the small part that _begged_ to differ, he snatched his duster from the coat rack and glided out the door, closing it behind him. The door's lock clicked into place before the foot falls receded down the hall. The pent house was silent and lifeless in his wake. 

Long, effortless strides propelled him out the glass doors of the high rise and onto the concrete that made up the sidewalk. The youkai lord inclined his head to the doorman slightly then continued on his way, turning in the direction of the park. 

Though it was quite nearly dark, there was still life flowing through the streets of Tokyo. Late workers shuffled home after a long day at work, some even held cell phones to their ears. Housewives and teenagers trickled around him caught up in their webs of thought and idle fantasies. 

He ignored them, closing his sense of smell to them all together for he himself had his own thoughts to contend with. Let them have theirs and he would stay with his; it worked wonders that way. He'd given up on trying even care about what humans could possibly think about when he'd dipping into their minds once before. They thought of the most inane and trivial things.  Why was the sky blue? Why was the earth round? Why do fools fall in love? 

Here was one. Why do humans bother with thinking if all they thought of were questions that did not need answers? Certainly they sometimes entertained deeper levels of sentient thought? Sesshoumaru didn't care to investigate though. 

Telepathy was a marvelous thing really. As long as the out come was good, that is.  It was more or less a curse when he stumbled across an idiot or a pervert. He couldn't exactly decide which was worse. Then again, there was the stereotypical schoolgirl. Giggles, pigtails, short skirts and all. Which included a mindful of all things male and more so the ones that had been classified as either 'cute', 'adorable', 'sweet' or 'hot'. There were more classifications but hell if he ever wanted to find out what they were. That would pass right past scary and straight into traumatizing.

Once again, he caught himself sighing and frowned, then wiped all expression off his face. 

How strange. 

His mind wondered to the most… human of subjects. Disgusting. 

Yet how very strange…

He crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk then entered through the wrought iron gates of Shing-Shing park, unaware of the strings of fate tightening about him and one other, hands shoved in pockets. Barely stopping he moved forward across paths as though being led. Not unlike a dog on a leash, he mused sourly. 

To be truthful, he felt a pull in a certain direction…. 

It was when he saw the flash of silver that his mind snapped back to reality and focused on the scene before him with startling precision. His pupils dilated then returned to normal size as his nimble mind sorted through the images his vision was passing to him. They came quickly and gave him no time to think further then impulse thoughts.

There on the bench sat a slender creature seeming to be spun of moonbeams and ebony silk. A girl. He felt recognition stir in him. 

The flash of silver solidified into a dagger. Or rather a kitchen knife.

The jack holding the dagger gave cruel life to a feverish and feral smile as he slinked towards the girl. 

A twig crackled like a gunshot and the girls head shot up from her hands, her broken, hazy gaze flying to the man and freezing into blue ice. 

That recognition jumped into a forest fire as the smoky blue orbs were revealed to him. 

That was when it all went to hell in a hand basket. 

Just as he himself blurred forward, the man pounced as the girl stood. The bum grabbed her shoulder and slammed the blade to its hilt into the young woman's stomach just under the left half of her rib cage. Over the bum's raggedly clad shoulder, Sesshoumaru was able to see her sweet young face contort with shock and pain, those unearthly eyes widening to an impossible size, her lips opening in a gasp of pain. The colors swirled and shifted as her pupils grew to nearly usurp the iris before shrinking to pinpricks of black against silvery-blue crushed velvet.

He did not notice that he'd frozen in place. 

Her visage relaxed as those dazed eyes found his and her eyebrows drew together in confusion even as he himself felt the white-hot dart of pain lance into his heart. A bit of empathy for him. The pastel lips shaped a word, and her small hand reached towards him. 

"Sess…" 

Then the dazed expression faded and she fell limp. Crimson droplets fell to the concrete staining it a dark, lusterless magenta hue. It seemed near charcoal in the night.

Time resumed its natural order.    

Recognition gave the girl a name and natural instinct signed the man's death certificate. Sesshoumaru darted into motion, retracted claws growing into their full fatal glory even as the murderer removed his hand from the girl's willowy shoulder and jerked the knife from her flesh with a twisted chuckle. That same chuckle ended in a gurgle as a fountain of red liquid erupted from his jugular, the delicate flesh of his throat torn and veins severed by one quick slash of Sesshoumaru's clawed hand. The greenish toxins ate away at what had not been torn, and the man was moving right into rigor mortis before his filthy body even hit the ground.

By morning, the toxic liquid would have eaten away the man's remains and all that would be left would be dark, red nearly black stains on the ground.  

Sesshoumaru had not stopped to watch his handiwork and was instead crouching over the girls still form. There was blood. Too much blood, but not enough to state a quick death. And there was none splattered on her lips that would denote a ruptured lung or severe internal bleeding. No, should he allow her to stay here she would bleed her life away slowly with each pulse of her heart. 

The question was; would he leave her here? 

Kagome… perhaps that was her identity. The only way to find out would be to ask her. In order to do that, she needed to speak. The dead couldn't talk. Not to mention, she had nearly said his name, so she must know him. Somehow. If she was the miko he remembered, then perhaps because she was treading the line between the waking world and the spiritual one she had been able to see him for who he really was… she'd been able to recognize his aura which would not have changed with his shape. Something to muse over later.

Without a sound he'd torn a few strips from the hem of his duster and had gently lifted the girls torso from the cold ground to wrap the cloth about her midsection in an effort to stay the bleeding. She remained in the land of forced sleep, even as he slipped one arm under her knees and pulled her to his chest as he stood and in one fluid motion, took to the air. He flew over the street, ignoring the flashing metal beasts that zoomed over asphalt, landing on a random roof here and there only to push off again and finally to the high rise pent house that was his home, or least one of them. Sesshoumaru alighted on the roof with an ease that spoke of ancient grace. 

The girl, still clinging to life with a tenacity that surprised him, mumbled something or other, the words running together into incoherency. Youkai may have had exceptionally finely tuned hearing, but they didn't have built in translators for gibberish. 

The door on the roof was unlocked so he managed opening it easily enough. Trekking down the stairs and into the hallway, he headed in the general direction of what humans called the living room.

He cradled the small form with one arm, using the other to remove all the junk (canvases, a pastel container and so on) from the marble coffee table. The coffee table would have to do, since it would not be stained by the blood she would be sure to get on it, and since it was a convenient make-shift operating table. Not that he'd be doing any thing such as that. There was also the fact that the edge of the coffee table was outlined by a deep groove, which would probably serve to catch any wondering blood and keep it from the pale blue carpet. Though that itself would be a bitch to clean out. Naetheless…

Delicately placing her on the marble surface, he shed his coat and made his way into the kitchen for a bowl of hot water and some clothes as well as the first aide kit he kept under the sink. Why he even had one was a mystery to him, but it would apparently serve a purpose tonight. And, there was enough gauze and bandages in it to stop up even amputated limbs. One measly knife wound would not exhaust his supplies. 

Armed to the nines with gauze and otherwise he knelt beside the table and placed the materials down on the soft carpet beside him. Thusly prepared he turned to his patient and paused to eye the white (not so much white now as crimson) blouse she wore and the quasi-bandages he'd procured from his duster. Using his pointer claw he sliced away the strips of cloth then, very gently, cut the blouse down the front to the waist.

 The torn material fell away to reveal a blooded mess and the puncture wound that still bled sluggishly. Keeping his eyes on just that and nothing else, Sesshoumaru reached to the washcloth at his side and dampened it in the water, he squeezed any excess water from the clothe and brought it up to dab at the wound and clear away the blood. Rinsing the cloth he repeated the motion, slowly unmasking pale cream skin over slightly toned muscles. His eyebrows rose.

Intriguing. So, this small creature was not as fragile as she seemed. 

Wiping that thought from the slate of his mind, he kept dabbing and rinsing till the water in the bowl had become a diluted red and the wound was sufficiently cleansed. Once more he paused to examine it. It was a pity it would scar… his eyes drifted a little further southeast and landed on a small, jagged star shaped marring on the otherwise untouched skin of her hip. He lightly traced it with a finger, caught himself and pulled away. Perhaps she'd been stabbed before? If she was who he believed her to be then that was entirely possible. 

Cracking the knuckles of his left hand, he held a finger just over the knife wound and waited. A small amount of clear liquid, not that of his poison claw, fell into the wound. The demon in disguise nodded in satisfaction and then watched the girl spasm as the liquid both burned away any infection and cauterized the torn flesh. Then he set about binding the wound much in the same way he had in the park with the strips of his duster.

 Lifting her torso up and allowing her to rest against him, her head lolling to the side to rest on his shoulder nearly tucked under his chin, he wrapped the gauze around her middle then tied it off. He lifted her from the table and wiped any blood left over off of her with the washcloth. Moving her still form to the couch, he covered her with a blanket he'd grabbed from it's back and went about cleaning the mess, all the while asking himself if he was out of his mind. 

Yes. Sanity was over rated anyway. And he had a right to be off his rocker, did he not?  

Surprisingly there was not as much blood as he'd anticipated, rather, it seemed her body had already started to heal, in a manner of speaking. This gave him something to speculate on, as he went back to the couch to look down on the stray he'd taken in. It wouldn't do to leave her there all night in her state of dress…or lack there of, he corrected, mind recalling the blooded blouse he'd thrown away. Her skirt was ruined as well… 

Pursing his lips, he reached down pulled the blanket back and lifted her up. Perhaps he had a shirt that would fit her well enough… 

Later in the night, near the twelfth hour, Sesshoumaru was still awake and thinking over his new 'pet project'. He had sprawled himself artfully in a plush chair by the girls' bedside, sketch book in lap and pencil in one hand, chin in the other as he watched the small creature dream whatever dreams her pretty little head held. 

Through the skylights, pure silver moonbeams fell across the room acting as natural spotlights for him as well as the girl. The girl…he didn't dare give her the name Kagome, to think of her as anything other then 'girl'. If he did…

He frowned, shifting his weight and leaning forward, listening to the sound of her breathing. It was a clear rhythm; no hitching or halting, nothing to state that there was blood in her lungs. The sound of her heart was also strong and deep. Obviously, his little rescue-ee was healthy creature. There was something… off about her though. He could not quite place his finger on it, try though he did. It was not possible to have a human survive such a wound without having to be hospitalized, and here was this nameless girl whom had nearly died five hours earlier, but was now merely deeply asleep instead of …well, whatever it was humans did when they were on the scythe's edge of Death. 

Finally, he decided to test his theory of her identity. 

Every being had a scent signature, so to speak. Each scent was as unique as a fingerprint and could never be duplicated. Unfortunately, or fortunately which ever way you viewed it, a humans olfactory senses were so very poor that they could not identify anyone by scent, well, they could but not too well. Dogs, on the other hand, had a powerful sense of smell and used it to their advantage. Their hypersensitive noses allowed them to tag, name and identify their humans easily. They were able to store the scent in their memories for later use. Sesshoumaru, being of the canine youkai family had this ability as well. 

Therefore, he remembered the miko's scent from even as long ago as it was. Keenly recalling the miko's scent, he opened his senses further and took a deep breath. 

 Roses, rainwater and a hint of pure female fragrance accosted his mind washing over him and going strait to his head. A perfect match for the memory's scent. He blinked, and then focused on the girl with disbelieving eyes. 

How in the seven hells…?

Completely confounded, he sat back, eyes a fraction of a millimeter wider then normal, staring at the creature that had defied him so many years in that past and had earned his respect despite her humanity.  Five hundred years in the past, and now, he was finding her in the present. Seemingly untouched by time.

Kami-sama, how on earth had she lived for so long? Her scent signature was all the proof he needed to know that she was the real thing and not a reincarnation or some such nonsense.  

Brightly glowing jade eyes took in the gir- No, _Kagome's_ sleeping form under the concealment of a comforter, and beneath that one of his smaller dress shirts that quite nearly swallowed her. 

Shocking. How had a _human_ survived for so very long? Or, perhaps, there was something else, a hidden element that he was unaware of. His eyes narrowed as he speculated once again leaning back in his plush chair, rubbing his chin. Pensive. 

Too have aged not even a little since he'd last threatened her life or that of his mongrel sibling for the Tetsusaiga… it was mind-boggling. His curiosity for the little miko was rekindled. It leapt into an inferno and despite his efforts would not be squelched or pushed back. 

Well, he mused, turning back to his sketchpad. He'd have all the time to satisfy his curiosity. The question was, how to go about it? 

Perhaps he would test the ice first. And go from there. What good was a plan? The strange human seemed to have an inane knack for spoiling his plans, no matter how meticulously he'd put them together. She was always the random element that he's underestimated. Besides, he mused, expression brooding, it would be nice to have someone who remembered the way things had been so long ago. And, honesty would be the best approach. The bizarre little thing would most likely see through his fables in a heartbeat. He wouldn't put it past her.

…If he was honest with himself, he was lonely in this horrid world of humans. She… was some one who he could possibly share a common bond with. Someone to remember the past and what it had been with.   

_Oh, how the mighty hath fallen_, was his last sardonic thought before he turned his full attention to his drawing pad. Only to see her smiling up at him. Her mirth nearly made him wince in sympathy for himself. _And they hath fallen hard…Damn. _

Well, there was nothing for it, he supposed. Thus the once mighty ruler of the western lands settled back in his leather-in-place-of-gold-and-gems-throne to continue communing with fickle inspiration. 

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End chapter.

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* I am not sure if the meaning is correct. If it isn't, well, tell me and I'll worship you. Almost. Long chapter, yes? Do ya love me? Oh, come on, you must love me. Even though I did take my time. But there like five hundred words more then the last chapter! I swear. So, do you love me, or what? 


	4. Chapter Three: Tighten thier Weave

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation? 

Song-fic: ….

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: The waking world is a horrible place for one to be though Kagome finds it's easier to survive with a shoulder to weep on. Especially if that someone is 'Hitori'. She doesn't really know who he really is though, otherwise she'd probably have a conniption. 

Genre: Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  Erg…I've been sticking my nose in way too many romance novels…Someone kick me. Tra la la. Well, yes, but at least they have some good material. None of that mushy gushy gag-me-now and strangle- me-later junk. That's always the quickest way down migraine road. Been there, done that.  

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" Well, if that is the way it must be done, then that is the way you must do it." Sir Didymus, _The Labyrinth._ (Shameless promotion, I know.)

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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

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            Chapter Two: …Tighten Their Weave. 

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The sun slowly climbed in it's zenith, splashing its wondrous hues of red and gold and velvet red over the glass buildings of Tokyo, the afore mentioned glass reflected the rays and the urban jungle was bathed in the warm aura of morning. The denizens of the city buzzed to life and the working day began. And the hectic, frantic day began anew…

In direct contradiction to the frenzy down at ground level, the high-rise pent house retained its lethargic peace. Through skylights that had once allowed the moonbeams of the night their passage, liquid sunshine now spilled through. Golden waves swallowed the simple ivory room changing everything to a glowing red, a change not unlike that of Midas's touch. 

The red-gold aura has swallowed the fragile form of the young woman on the bed, curled into the fetal position. One small hand clasping the vile of shards at her pale throat, holding tight, protecting. She slept soundly, the sun's rays warming her skin and the heat sinking to her soul. Kagome slept unaware of the strange eyes that still watched her. 

Sesshoumaru rubbed his chin in thought, eyes turned inward as he pondered. The human, Kagome as he knew her to be, was not entirely that. Human, that is. No human's healing could have sped to three times its normal rate. In what would have taken any other jack a few weeks to heal, Miss Miko would have healed in only one and a half of a week if his calculations were correct. Which they were. He had not checked her bandages, but he could sense the healing through some sixth sense. Or rather, a seventh. Telepathy was the sixth. The eighth was empathy. Hmmm…. Well, whichever sense he was using at the moment he knew to trust it. 

One would only get himself killed otherwise…It would explain much of his half brother's misfortunes. 

Quickly steering clear of that thought, Sesshoumaru re-averted his attention back to the miko mystery and resisted the sudden urge to throw his hands into the air. There was no figuring the girl out. None. Obviously the puzzle was a 3-D one and would never be solved because several key pieces were missing. 

He couldn't help but reach up to rub his temples where he felt another head ache begin its irritating tirade.

Deciding to take a few more of those miracle pills, he got to his feet and slipped from the light of the room into the shadows of the hallway.

Through a hazy miasma of muted colors, some of which had no name, Kagome's mind drifted with no true purpose. Distantly, she could feel her body and what it lay on yet she paid it no mind at the moment. Content to just float she gave a mental sigh and let herself go on. For some wonderful reason the pain was not as… dominant here. She was free of it, and that was all the prompting she wanted to stay here for just a little while longer. 

Gradually, that 'little while' tickled away and Kagome's mind gravitated towards the borderline of the waking world and she felt her heart plummet when the pain attacked with the frenzied intensity usually reserved for a starving man placed at a banquet table that strained against the weight of fine delicacies and precious morsels. 

The muted hues took gave a sharp jerk into a placenta of frigid lavender and deep ice blue shades that left her feeling cold inside. Her physical body shivered, tightening into a fetal position seeking warmth it would not find as her lips parted to give passage to a whimper. 

Memories of the night before filtered in swiftly, leaving her dizzy. She'd been stabbed, which explained the lances of pain shooting from her side up along her nerves and into her chest. Little prickles of pain.

Then the memory of the, well, the man had been more divine in appearance then mortal, so perhaps he was an angel? Of death? What a way to die. She'd no complaints… Except for one. But…if she was dead, why was there still pain? 

Foolish. She didn't belong to death yet. Unfinished business and all that. 

Very well. Mister Divine was not the angel of death and she was still very much alive judging by how it hurt to breath and the vast array of colors playing tag in her mind. Deep breathe. Her heart trembled with the sudden ache. 

And her eyes snapped open. Then just as quickly slammed shut as the suns rays filled her retinas and burned them. Learning from the mistake, she pulled a lead weighted arm from under the covers and placed her hand over her eyes. Through the shield of flesh and bone, she opened one eye then blinked and opened both, squinting against the sudden gold leaking through her fingers, flesh glowing red.

The girl twisted onto her back, noticing the way the shirt, which was too large to be her own, wrapped even tighter about her. Trying to ignore the pain in her side and the pull of the gauze bandages she sat up, hand still partly covering her eyes. Unfortunately, her strength would not hold her up, so she settled for leaning back on one arm swamped by pillows. Her side gave sharp protest to the motion and she winced. 

Her eyes not entirely adjusted to the light but it was enough for her to let her hand fall to rest gently on her stomach, as she let her gaze take in the strange room she was in. 

Pale blue, so pale a blue it was nearly white, walls and pale blue carpeting. The steel gray orbs traveled over the wooden frames and glass that protected whatever  precious, no doubt, works of art they held. Each one was by the same artist. She also noted each seemed to pull a different emotion out of the viewer and display it on the canvas. There were no words to describe the abstract art- nothing but lovely, that is. Kagome's eyes followed the frames to the window and out to the glass towers of Tokyo. 

 She blinked, stared then blinked again. Then lifted her head to stare at the ceiling and the skylights that gave her a portal to the sky above. Her eyes widened in silent wonder as a bird darted over the glass, falling into the sky then diving back down only to snap it's wings out at the last moment and blur away on another updraft. 

It was nearly enough to bring a smile to her face, feeling the suns rays warming her skin. The frigid cold of earlier was gone. She was glad of it. 

Giving out a huff of air, she looked back down at herself and immediately stopped, startled. There was a soft red dress shirt where there should have been a pink blouse. And her skirt was non-existent. 

"….um.." She swallowed, lifting her arm again. The sleeve's cuff fell down past her fingertips, clearly stating that the shirt itself belonged to something of male origin.

"Oh…kuso." 

Something, or someone, that was very tall and long limbed. Her mind abruptly pulled up the image of the man she'd seen before passing out, then sped ahead to the only conclusion she could come up with. Her angel of Death was actually the angel of mercy. 

"How utterly amusing. In some sarcastic, not really kind of way." Kagome rubbed her temples in slow, firm, counter clockwise circles. 

After downing the lovely little pain relieving capsules, Sesshoumaru traipsed back towards his sanctuary, keen ears listening to the hints of the miko waking up. He could faintly make out the sounds of her heartbeat and breathing. Both were quite pleasant to listen to actually; most humans had a sort of wheezing way of breathing, whereas hers were soft and controlled. Her heartbeat was strong and deep. 

Pleasant. For a human. 

Retracting his aura, he stopped just outside the open door to his golden haven. He was not worried that she'd felt him what with the fact that she was certainly still very much out of it and would not sense him at all, even without the precaution, till he was _breathing_ on her. Wonderful thing about wounds. Left your enemy, or in this case former enemy sluggish and disoriented. A perfect opportunity to study them. Awake, that is. A sleeping (former) enemy was an enemy that told no secrets and revealed nothing (except for if they snored). 

From what he'd gleaned of her before, she was a rather stubborn and odd human. One with a rebellious power that would burn to life one moment then fall back into the depths of her body just as quickly. That made her something to be wary of and just a tad feared. Such as the time she'd been able to pull Tetsusaiga from it's resting place, and when she'd somehow reversed its transformation when he'd managed to capture it that one time. He began to suspect she had some measure of control over it, though it had been hard to tell as she'd very rarely actually come into contact with it. Not to mention, his pitiful brother never did have full control over the fang till she had been in danger. 

It would be interesting to see what would happen should the Tetsusaiga be placed in her hands… and to see how strong her rebellious power was. 

Aside from that, the girl had nothing else going for her. She knew very little about defending herself as was apparent by the bloody blouse in his refuse pile. This gave him pause as a new road way opened up for him and his as of late un-plotted plan. 

Why not kindly offer to teach her in the art of self-defense and while he was at it, learn as much about her as he could? He very nearly smiled, though what came from it was a predatory and self-satisfied smirk. 

 The mystery that had plagued him for so very long would be solved and he could get on with his life in peace. No doubt that once he learned and understood all of the miko's idiosyncrasies, he'd loose whatever platonic interest he had in her. 

Curiosity reared its annoying head when he'd heard the girl mumble to herself. After a gasp. Then a curse.  Quirking an eyebrow he leaned on the door frame and watched her closely. She remained blissfully ignorant of his presence, which gave him the chance to sum her up. 

At the moment she was messaging her forehead gently, seemingly nearly swallowed whole by the dress shirt he'd clothed her in. The effect was a fragile little creature nestled in the folds of a fluffy white comforter and a red cotton shirt. What completed the air of innocence were the sun's liquid gold spilling on her and giving her ebony hair a divine glow. 

He frowned at his poetic turn of thought and stepped fully into the room arms crossed over his chest. Standing as such, he relaxed and waited for her to notice she had an audience. One that wasn't exactly displeased with the view. 

Sesshoumaru was not disappointed for only moments later Kagome had stiffened and turned her head to look at him with luminous and lucid sapphire orbs. Startled apprehension were housed within the remarkable depths, causing the hues to shift into a lighter topaz.

Probably the only time he'd seen anything other then defiance and steel will in them, he mused searching for any sign of the recognition he'd seen in them the night before. There was something, deep in her gaze…so deep, it was probably on a subconscious level. He let it go for the time being and instead settled for speaking. 

"Ohayo, how are you feeling?" His voice had changed little from those many years ago. No matter which form he held, he would not change his vocal chords. He watched the flash of that something dart through those eyes before vanishing back to the depths. 

She opened her mouth, lips working to form words…finally she grasped one and let it fly. 

"Who..?" 

His lips twitched, "Am I? Simple question, simple answer. Wasuremono, Hitori. At your service." A slight bow, then he moved to sit down in the chair once again, silently thanking whatever deity was out there that he'd not left the sketchbook open. It would not do for her to see a rendition of her all bloody and half nude now would it? Might give her the wrong ideas… 

And he was most certainly aware that her eyes were riveted to his form. Hn. The sudden …smugness- he believed, that filled him puzzled him. That was rather unexpected, even though he knew it was just caution that schooled her actions. 

Clearing his throat, he leaned his elbows on his knees and turned his eyes onto her.

He said, "As for the rest of the questions I'm sure you have, I'll answer them easily. What? You were stabbed. The bum is.. _well_ taken care of. When? Wasn't it obvious? Where you are now? My home. Why? The hospital was too far away to be of any real use. Not to mention the staff there is composed of imbeciles, and they'd have done you no good. So, you are now in my care. Pleased to meet you."  His voice was colored by good humor. Dry though it was, and straight to the point.

She blinked at him, obviously torn between what should have been gratitude or being ticked at his arrogant way of solving her problems. He was very much amused by the play of emotions on her face. 

Finally she settled on just looking positively dazed. The taiyoukai felt his lips tilt upward in what he assumed was called a roguish grin. Very small, but there naetheless. 

The little thing gathered herself and gave him a small smile. Adorable. He marveled again at how expressive she was. How was it that humans were able to hold such a vast array of emotions and not simply explode? Or at the very least, get a headache that would rival even one of his. 

Such an intellectually challenging little creature he'd caught himself, no? He was looking forward to the challenge. For the first time in a long while, he actually looked forward to what lay ahead. Amazing. Making a note to thank her for that later, he allowed himself the entertainment of seeing her fidget.

Kagome fiddled with a strand of her hair, unable to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. The man before her seemed to radiate a calm intelligent intensity that left her unbalanced. Something inside her sat up and paid attention, obviously finding the air the man gave off very familiar in the strangest of ways. Wasuremono, Hitori…why did the name sound familiar? She tilted her head to the side to study the young man before her. Better yet, why did _he_ seem familiar? 

The miko couldn't quite put her finger on it, 'it' seemed to dance just past her reach whenever she tried, but she knew it was important. 

"Haven't I seen you somewhere?" 

The smile that ghosted at the corners of his firm mouth was really very breathtaking, even though it was barely at the status of a smile. _Gee, he must have to beat the female populous off with a stick, _the monitor at the back of her mind speculated. Kagome resisted the urge to blush.  

" I should think so. My face has after all been plastered all over in Tokyo bookstores and art auctions. One would have to be virtually living under a rock to have not seen it. I don't believe I've had the honor of your name, miss." Her congenial savior leaned back in the lazy boy he was lounged in, pulling his torso out of the light and into the shadow. 

Once again, the proverbial floor swung under her feet from his swift change of subject. Had she been able to think clearly, she might have been positively mortified that she was in his bed and one of his shirts, obviously, and in order to have been that way, he'd have had to undress her. However, she was too occupied with keeping her balance around Mr. Worldly that anything else was put to the back of her mind. 

As such, she was able to put the agony of her heart at the back of her mind as well, till it was only a constant and dully aching thrum. 

Finding her footing once again, she bowed her head.

"Higurashi, Kagome. Thank you, for, you know, saving my life." 

She missed the gleam of triumph in those oddly hued eyes he possessed, but did not miss his words. 

"Well Higurashi-san, would you like some tea?" Raised eyebrow, and he pushed himself to his feet in a motion that was fluid enough to put water into a fit of jealousy. She was awed; apparently the switching of subject to random subject was a penchant for this man. 

Kagome wet her lips, all at once aware of her empty stomach and parched throat, "Yes, tea would be lovely." 

Her stomach rumbled its agreement, much to her embarrassment. The stitching of the white comforter was suddenly most fascinating. Kagome decided to examine it more thoroughly. 

A deep, husky sound came from the general direction of Hitori. Like a bowstring her head snapped up to investigate the sudden noise only to find her rescuer watching her through gleaming cat's eyes. He was laughing? Her jaw dropped in her incredulous shock. 

"Would you like some food as well, Higurashi-san?" He asked, his laughter gone from his face though mirth still lit up his eyes. 

She corrected him automatically, "Kagome is fine. I'm not one for formalities. And, food…well, it couldn't sound bet- ittai." 

Wincing, her arm shifted against her stomach, drawing his attention there. She relaxed when the spasm passed and looked up to find him suddenly much closer then she remembered. The skin of her cheeks were stained rouge when he frowned, and very delicately brushed his fingers over the material of the shirt she wore directly over her wound. His eyes never left hers. 

Time suddenly went into deep freeze mode, and then jumped back into play just as swiftly. It left her slightly dizzy and more then just a little disconcerted. Hitori straitened and his slim form vanished through the door. 

She stared blankly after him, the confusion tugging her brows together. Then, positive that he was gone, she pushed back the covers and lifted the hem of the borrowed shirt she was wrapped in. A blotch of crimson, not too big but not so small either gave her a moment of shock. That explained the light-headedness she was experiencing. One hand still holding the shirt up, the other delicately prodded the outer perimeter of the blotch. She brought the hand up to her face, letting the hem cover her once more to examine to blood on the tips of her fingers in morbid fascination. 

Kagome blinked, then her eyes turned glassy as her mind wondered once again. She'd nearly died. The evidence was staining her finger pads. It was throbbing, a dull reminder of the life that still flowed through her, at her side and in the hitch of her breath. 

So many times she'd faced death, stared it down and escaped it none the worse for wear. But, it had always been a youkai that was attempting to kill her, never a human. A human doing it of his own free will, that it. It brought an entirely new prospective to her on how cruel and cold mankind could really be. Or, was she paying for her betrayal? Oh Kami…

Sesshoumaru frowned as he put the instant ramen into the microwave, mind on Kagome. Apparently her wound was healing in a very unorthodox and unpredictable way. It seemed that sleeping helped her to heal at a swifter pace, however, when awake she was just like any other wounded mortal. The regenerative process slowed. And, since she sat up, her wound had re-opened. Dormancy, he could understand. More energy was available when was asleep to do such things at that. Hn…

The scent of her blood was… unusually intoxicating. He'd not noticed it last night, what with saving her life and such. But that wasn't what was really bothering him. It was checking her wounds and, should it be necessary, changing the bandages. 

He didn't exactly feel like having her scream bloody murder at his attempt to 'compromise her purity' and 'taint her womanhood', given her indignant nature he was positive he'd be on the receiving end of her hand and a shriek. 

His hearing was a precious sense to him, though he supposed he could live without it- not that he was willing to give it a go and therefore 'Take no chances' was the best advice he could follow. 

In any case, he still needed to change the bandages otherwise she'd get infected and Kami only knew how that would make her _happy_.

The microwave chirped at him, causing his train of thought to crash. Glaring at it, he pulled the Styrofoam cup from the machine's open maw and poured the contents into a bowl. The bowl was then placed on a tray that already held a cup pf spiced tea and a glass of water as well as some sliced fruit. Tray in one hand he grabbed the first aide kit with the other and padded on silent feet back down the hall. 

He'd have to compromise with her. It was an offer she could not refuse. Or would not, he corrected stepping into the sun-lit room.  Only to pause mid-thought at the sight he fell upon. 

It was a strange sight, to say the least. A very contradicting one at that. The room itself gave off the impression of peace and purity, so much so that it made his eyes ache. And the frail little creature he'd rescued sat on a pedestal (also known as a king sized bed) in the center with golden rays causing her pale flesh to be inflicted by a warm glow and the raven tresses strewn about her shoulders to deepen in such a way that they seemed a midnight hue. All this was very innocent in stature. But then there came the other side; the blood red on her fingers, her nearly scared visage coupled with the crimson clothing he'd bundled her in. 

All bespoke of taint. 

Finding the sight perturbing, he quickly set the kit on the chair and padded over to the girl. The whole while, he studied her carefully from under lowered lashes. The woman-child was trembling, he frowned.

She sensed him approach and turned her head, hands still held up weakly, to see the displeasure that marred his features as he looked upon her shaking form. Kagome felt the familiar prickle at the back of her eyes, and her throat tightened. 

Swallowing, she watched him set the tray down at the oaken bedside table and kneel before her. Her vision blurred and she lost her focus on the man. Thus she quite nearly jumped from her hide when his long fingers curled warmly about her wrists, and brought them to him. She closed her eyes, feeling two hot streams burn their signatures down her cheeks before gravity flung them from her chin, and did not see him dip a napkin in the glass of water and dab her fingers clean again. The feeling however reached her, and her eyes opened, more tears shed. They shattered on the red cotton, darkening the cloth. 

"What did I do to deserve this?"  Her whisper held the plea for an answer. It made him pause his dabbing, to glance down at her hands so small in his own, then resumed their capture of her pained gaze.

He shook his head and tossed the soiled napkin into the trash container conveniently placed between the legs of the bedside table. 

"I'd say it was Murphy's Law, worst possible thing at the worst possible moment. Wrong place, wrong time. You did nothing." 

Her reaction was nearly violent, he had to tighten his hold on her hands to keep them from being flailed about helter-skelter. 

"Yes I did! I did something horrible. I abandoned my friends. Because I was weak, and I couldn't take it anymore I just left! I betrayed them! And I promised Shippou I would never leave him!" 

He stood up, still holding her captive and moved his hands to her shoulder to give her a firm shake. Under the hold, he felt the tension melt and her spine seemed to liquefy for she crumpled into a pitiful, whimpering mess of tears and sorrows. Ahhh, so that was what weighed her conscience.

Brushing aside the disgust from a side that should learn to shut up, he scooted her over and took a seat beside her, one leg hanging over the bed's edge the other curled before him. The next moment he had a feather-light mass of guilt seated in his lap leaning against him as he very gently rocked her, stroking her sleek tresses and rubbing soothing circles on her back.  She continued to leak rivers into the soft material of his own long-sleeved shirt. 

In the amount of years he had Rin in his care, he'd learned so much about human tendencies to weep or to blame themselves for something that had been out of their control. He'd experienced her childhood and then that of her children and had watched her offer love and comfort when they'd awoken from a particularly horrible dream. 

The circumstances may have been different, but comfort would always be the same and he offered what small amount he could to her. He found in him compassion and he gave it to her freely. 

"It takes a rare strength to admit weakness, Kagome-san." He continued to rock, listening to her whimpers taper into sniffles, then into slightly congested breath. She clutched the lapels on his shirt with one small hand, and the other was held to her chest, fingers curled about the shards. Tear stained, she stared unseeing at the wall across from her. And the painting that spoke of longing…for love.  

He kept telling himself it meant nothing, the way she fit to him. Every flowing curve she possessed found a corresponding niche in him. The feeling of being whole was merely a figment of his imagination and that the fluttering of his guts was just indigestion. But he as not a fool and he did not play the game of denial. The truth was there. He just didn't want to find it.

End chapter.

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	5. Chapter Four: Horror on the Heart String...

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation? 

Song-fic: ….

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Could a girl wounded as Kagome had been wounded, both physically and emotionally, stand to trust a beautiful stranger? Or is she jaded? And if so, does Hitori have what it takes to heal her? 

Genre: Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  Yikes! I just realized that I haven't been replying to the reviews! Where had my brain gone? You know, I bet it's somewhere in the couch…That's where everything I loose goes. Geh, well, I shall endeavor to reply all my wonderful reviewers from now on, really I will. I don't think I've ever gotten so much praise in my life. I'm starting to feel bloated. Possible? Yes. Yes it is. ::explodes:: 

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" To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god." 

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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

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            Chapter Four:  Horror on the Heart Strings.

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Time changed, dancing forward in its solitude, uncaring that it waltzed alone. Destiny and chance stayed as wall flowers, waiting and watching. Minutes and hours trailed in the wake of Time as was their duty. The ethereal and the divine order carried on, regardless of mortal and immortal coils being woven. 

Blissfully ignorant of the perennial flow going on about then. Sesshoumaru and Kagome lived in their own worlds. Worlds that had never quite touched, but were now being melded together by Fate and the pain of lonely hearts. All though, one remained unknowing of it's pain, frozen by time as it was. The other, cowered away from any contact. That of course, would all change, if Chance had her say in the flow of things. 

So Time danced on, and the order carried on.  

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Feeling much like a soggy tissue, Sesshoumaru mutely offered her the cup filled with cooled tea and tried desperately not to grimace at the feeling of tear dampened cloth rubbing over his collar bone. It was…sticky. Not a feeling he was fond of. But he'd asked for it, he supposed. Damned compassion.

A small hand rested it's feather light weight upon his wrist, startling him into looking down to watch as said hand guided his own -that still held the cup - towards her lips. The rim of the cup met those soft petals and he automatically tilted the cup for her to drink.  Dark amber liquid swished a moment against the white walls of the cup then vanished into her mouth and down the slender column of her pale throat. 

He found the movements fascinating in a disturbing way. 

The tea cup drained, her hand dropped back into her lap, and he pulled the cup away from her lips and placed it back onto the tray. He stared blankly down at the tray for a moment, turning a thought over in his mind. Next item of business… her bandages. He staunchly refused the abrupt urge to cringe; the thought of her screeching alone enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention, as he was sure that would be the way of her reaction.

The girl sighed then slid off of him, content to settle into the crook of his arm. His eyebrow shot up, bemused expression crossing his face and then was gone. Oh ho! So, she thought he was going to spoon feed her, did she? 

...Oh, very well, he would. Deal. Must remember the deal. Of course, what with the lightening bolts railing up his arm and side from where she was curled, mixed with the lingering warmth of her body where she'd once been, he was rather hard pressed to remember anything other then the feel of her against him. It was rather thought scrambling, really. Though not entirely unpleasant, he had to admit.

"I'm going to have to change your bandages, Kagome-san. After you eat of course." He steeled himself for the indignant squawk and, quite possibly, a hand to introduce itself to his cheek. So much for a backbone. 

When it didn't come, he shifted his position slightly and looked down upon the black crown of hair resting against his chest. She was such a trusting little thing, and so very fragile. A deep stirring inside him gave him pause, a stirring he didn't quite recognize. How strange, that this delicate creature should voluntarily choose to thrust him. He, a complete stranger. A past would-be killer. Given, she did not know who he really was, or if she did, she let nothing on. Her trust… The novelty of it was enough to amaze him. And then, if she remained in his company would she come to be as loyal to him and she had been to his sad excuse for a brother? Did he want her loyalty?

Kagome hid her flushing face from his view against the hard plane of his upper torso. The mortification came from both the realization that he was probably -definitely the one who cared for her wound and that he'd seen her undergarments. That and he'd get to see more flesh then she'd ever really let anyone else see in her life. 

 Sure, she'd worn bathing suits in public before but there was a big difference between a bikini and a bra and underwear. If she recalled correctly, she'd made the mistake of wearing her lacy black set… Crap. 

What on earth had she been thinking? Had she even _been_ thinking? Yet, she trusted him. More than she had any right to, she realized. How could one not trust the person that had saved their life? Well, she trusted him for the most part. But there was something inside that shouted to her to be on her guard, that nothing was as it seemed and her savior was no exception.

And then, how was she supposed to go about letting him change her bandages anyway? Kagome knew she couldn't possibly succeed in changing them herself. Deciding there was nothing for it, she nodded partially and felt him move away. The loss of warmth sent sudden, curling fingers up and down her spine. She frowned, not pleased by her sudden attachment to him.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms about her self and then turned to watch Hitori in silent scrutiny. He looked so very familiar… For a moment a wave of light-headedness crashed over her, making her vision blur. And in that one moment, pale silver blonde hair became pure white gold, green cats eyes morphed into slit pupiled molten gold orbs and streaks of deep crimson formed on alabaster cheek bones, giving them more enunciation. On his forehead a crescent moon of deep ocean blue bloomed. 

So surprised was she, that she gasped and the vision shattered leaving only Hitori standing before her, beautiful features molded into a concerned expression. Bowl of soup still in hand, he resumed his place on the large bed. Moments later, she was looking up cross eyed at the pale flesh of his hand as he placed the back of it against her forehead, positively confused at his actions. 

He spoke, "You do not seem to have a fever." 

The pale brows knit together in consternation. Some distant monitor at the back of her mind noted it made him seem much more human than he had a moment ago. One step down from being an angel. What would that make him then, if not human?

"I..er, no, I'm fine really. Just, I saw something…when my vision swam…um." How to tell him that she had thought he was a youkai killer from the past? Somehow she felt it wouldn't fly well if she told him that. No doubt he'd think he'd saved a loon and just as quickly admit her to the nearest padded room. 

Those intense eyes locked on her and her thoughts immediately froze in place. As though afraid that if they so much as twitched, he would see them. That he would know her mind inside out and she would cease being herself. But then, hadn't she already ceased being just simple Kagome, but was instead now known as the reincarnate of the miko Kikyou ? Or was she afraid that she'd lose that small piece of her unwanted identity as well? 

She squirmed, tearing her eyes away from his and down at her fidgeting hands with difficulty. Only to nearly jump when the bowl of soup, ramen she noted, her gut clenching painfully, was moved into her line of vision. 

"And what, pray tell, did you see?" Hitori asked then offered, "Soup?" Though, his asking held more of a note of demand then just a harmless question. Nonetheless, Kagome placed her hands around the bowl extremely careful not to touch him and took the pro-offered item gingerly. The ceramic was still very warm to the touch. But it was a welcome change; her hands were cold. Were cold, they weren't any more which was good. Very good. Oh, she was babbling again… And what size straight jacket do you wear miss? Small, medium. large or extra crazy? 

While Kagome was distracted, Sesshoumaru had risen to his feet and noted with intent interest the flare of rouge over her cheekbones. Innocent. Bah, what a rarity, he briefly gave mind space to the thought then the somewhat odd notion that she was very strong indeed to have remained so pure (alas, he had fallen so low he was utilizing mediocre words like _pure_)for five hundred years. Said thought was quickly filed away in the junk folder, which he would no doubt chew on later. 

Sesshoumaru felt yet another headache begin to spark behind his eyes. He quickly poured a spot of tea for himself and downed it gentlemanly and with finesse. Then without pause he plucked the fork from the platter and placed it in her line of vision as well. One small hand fluttered up, claimed the fork then settled the utensil in the soup with a bitty splatter. The spoon was raised again, rimmed with a rich in sodium broth and lifted towards her lips… hmmm. 

The taiyoukai decided to take a seat in his cozy chair and momentarily rewrite the book of profane epitaphs with a gusto.  Such horrid thought trials his mind was blazing. _More tea? Thanks, don't mind if I do. _

Contemplating the dark amber liquid, he listened to the clinking of metal against ceramics then the near silent slurping of broth. Silence resumed its reign, much to his enjoyment. He much preferred the quiet, and given his company, he figured it would be awhile till his solitude went uninterrupted once more. Yes, give the girl a few minutes, hours maybe, to regain her bearings and she'd be just as loud as she'd been five hundred years ago. Perhaps not loud so much as charismatic.

When the sounds of her feeding ceased to tickle his ears, he peered over the rim of his cup to investigate the sudden and complete lack of sound. The girl was inspecting the fruit. Avidly. 

Sesshoumaru went back to his tea.  He'd wait till she was truly finished. Unless of course she just liked poking and prodding produce. Strange girl. But then, he expected no less of her. Otherwise, he may have been disappointed. 

At the moment, Kagome wasn't sure what to do with the fruit. Did he honestly expect her to get that down in her gut after eating such a large bowl of soup? With an injury to the gut no less? Hell, she half expected broth to start spouting from the hole she no doubt had in her belly. She sighed and picked up a slice of orange, or perhaps it was a tangerine, and stared at it a moment. On all accounts it was in appearance entirely innocent. Which was why she wasn't going to eat it. Appearances were deceiving, she mused with a small frown.

That decided, she dropped the sliver back onto the plate and shifted her attention back to her rescuer, who was currently sipping his tea demurely, eyes closed. Her eyes moved over him then dropped to the floor beside his cream hued easy chair. What they landed on was a book of sorts, but much too big to be a novel of any kind. No, she knew what it was. A sketch book. Briefly entertaining the wonder of what was held inside the thick paper covers, Kagome averted her gaze when the familiar sensation of eyes upon her made her look up. 

Hitori's pale yellow jade orbs were examining her intently, one hand's fingers splayed under his jaw, elbow on knee. The cup he'd been drinking from moments ago dangled from the fingers of his other hand. He'd leaned forward. How he had been able to do that without her notice, she'd never know. 

Their eyes met and held, for one instant in time his eyes flared a brilliant gold then faded back to the jade.  Kagome felt a white-hot dart strike her in the heart, yet it was not painful in anyway. More, it felt like a premonition…

Somehow she knew this man before her was going to play a key part in her life. Perhaps her savior in more ways then one. 

She blinked and the moment died, a new one taking it's place. Hitori had set the cup down on the floor and stood, then lifted up what she instantly identified as a first aide kit. 

Again painful memories bombarded her and she closed her eyes, swallowing. Seconds later the bed dipped on her left side, Hitori's weight settling into the downy softness as his nimble hands made short work of the clasps on the white box then lifted the lid. Her head swiveled to watch him pull out a small pair of scissors and a good amount of gauze and other things.

The taiyoukai glanced up at her from the cover of her lashes and the pale strands of hair that fell into his face, examining her expression. A haunting pain echoed in the blue sea of her eyes, though she hid it well. She was about to cry again, and Kami help him but he hated it when she cried. Pain wasn't for her, laughter was. He could see it in the way she had smiled. Read it in her voice. 

"Lean back on your elbows." He instructed, and waited for her to follow his directions. She did so; he moved his hand towards the blankets and pulled them up to cover her waist, blithely ignoring her blush. 

Sesshoumaru pulled back and stood up, taking the rolls of scissors with him. The steel gray orbs followed him as he made his way to the right side of the bed and placed the scissors on the bed side table. They tracked him still as he crouched down and began unbuttoning her, well his, shirt from the bottom up slowly, careful not to let his fingers press down too hard. He stopped two buttons before he reached the swell of her breasts.

She flinched when the cloth fell open to expose white bandages stained by crimson. Her 'doctor' brushed aside the flaps of her shirt with gentle fingers then reached back to the table for the scissors. 

Cold metal touched her skin briefly as he slipped them under the white bandages and began cutting. The gauze gave way to the sharp edged scissors and soon he'd finished. One arm slid under her and pulled her up, as the hand of the other arm pulled the cuttings away from her and tossed them on the lid of the kit.  

Still holding her up, he continued to work quickly and efficiently, giving her the impression that he'd done this many, many times before. Kagome remained tensed, trying to hold up as much of her own weight as she could, no doubt trying to save him some the burden of holding her. She should have known better. 

It was rather awkward to have a near stranger being the only thing between you and falling. Kagome could feel the corded muscles against her back shifted with every movement Hitori made, and it made her stomach knot. To have so much strength… the man nearly scared her, yet she wasn't truly afraid. It was almost like having…_No, don't think of him. Don't or the pain will drown me._

The sensation of fingers trailing over her skin hauled her from the river of thoughts and then the sensation was accompanied by a feeling much akin to tape being peeled away from flesh. 

Startled, her eyes flew down to her abdomen in time to see the bloodied square of gauze lifted away from her wound and tossed on the heap of dirtied bandages that rested on the kit's lid. Again the tears pricked at the backs of her eyes when she saw the full result of human corruption that had pierced her flesh. 

Hitori delicately traced the wound's perimeter, barely touching the skin. He leaned over her slightly, grabbing another pure snow square and something else. 

Before she knew what was what, he'd set her back to her elbows and was spreading an oddly hued paste onto the square. Then without warning the square was pressed firmly to the injury. 

She whimpered when it began burning, causing her stomach muscles to tighten. Which in turn made the dull burning of the medicinal paste flare up into an inferno. He lifted her up again, one hand still pressing the gauze to her wound. Silently she vowed that as soon as she had the chance she was going to hurl something of substantial weight at him. The jerk…

He very nearly chuckled when he dipped into her thoughts. _Hurl something at me indeed._ Withdrawing his telepathy, Sesshoumaru lessened the pressure he was applying then moved his hand away entirely to curl his fingers around the roll of clean bandages. 

"I am sorry, but it was necessary to ward off any infection. Unless of course you enjoy having festering wounds. Hold this." 

She placed one hand on the end of the gauze strip and he began to wrap her in bandages once more. When he came back around, she moved her hand out of his way and he continued. 

" In any case, you seem to be healing well. Merely a precaution." He secured the bandages, noting that she was being unusually quiet. Curious, he lofted his head and caught the crystal pools balancing in her eyes, ready to fall but afraid of the plunge. 

Sesshoumaru frowned, still very damp from the last bout of woe she'd dragged him through. The pools spilled over, careening down the smooth expanse of her checks then dying on her trembling lips. Or falling from her chin and shattering on the red shirt she wore. 

"Oh, now don't start that again." He warned, reaching up and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. She bubbled a weak laugh and did her best to sit up fully, without his aid. And yet, the salty rivers still spilled. 

She whispered, "I can't help it. It hurts." 

Puzzled, Sesshoumaru studied her closely, "Your wound?"

The girl gave a weak shake of her head, sending ebony curls to cascade over her shoulders. His eyes followed the movements, fell down to her willowy hands which were working on the buttons of her shirt. 

"No." 

Simple answer, but vague. 

"Then what?" 

"…My heart hurts." 'Hurts' was an understatement, given the amount of liquid she was leaking. How much water could human tear ducts hold anyways?

A brief pause, both parties caught in their own musings. He was the first to stir, "Why does your heart hurt?" 

Kagome refused to look up at him, all to aware of the tears that still fell from her eyes. She was ashamed, he knew. Ashamed of her weakness, and that he was watching. 

His eyes caught her swallow, apparently she was trying to decide on whether or not she could trust him., " Do you always pry into a persons private life?" 

"Only when I've just saved said person life." He returned. So, she didn't trust him as much as he had hoped. Somehow, he felt a bit put out by her lack of faith in him. Granted he had no reason to be.

She shifted. "So you make a habit of saving strangers?" 

"And yet, we aren't really strangers." Sesshoumaru continued standing up, taking the unused gauze and such with him. 

"You see, we share a bond. Not a very strong one, I'll admit. But we share one." 

The nearly slate gray eyes that peered at him through black stands of hair were intrigued in spite of herself. Her hands rested unmoving in her lap though he could see them shake. With fear or something else he didn't know. 

"You felt it too, did you not? A dozen minutes ago." He watched her rapt expression grow even more cloudy with confusion. But before she could so much as breathe the question he knew danced on the tip pf her tongue, he held up his hand. 

" Like an arrow. Or a dart?" When she paled he knew he'd hit the bull's eye.

She looked away with a small shudder, closing her eyes. 

Sesshoumaru nearly smiled, exalting in his small victory. "I'm right aren't I? You did feel it. And the recognition, as though you've known me from somewhere before. Perhaps you don't realize it yet, but you do. I only wonder when you'll figure it out." 

As he'd been giving his speech, Sesshoumaru had cleaned the small mess he'd made and now held the kit in one hand and the sketchbook in the other. Kagome remained silent, though the frantic rhythm of her heart reached his ears easily. Her breathing had hitched as well. He paused to look her small form over once more before exiting the room. 

He'd given her a small clue. May hap she would discover who he was. He, however, couldn't seem to figure out who she was. Kagome Higurashi. Her name, yes, but not her. 

"Perhaps," He wondered to no one in particular, "A more befitting name for the girl would be Kurai*." As he expected, no one answered. 

End chapter.

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* Would be pronounced Cry. Great isn't it?


	6. Chapter Five: Solitary Confinement

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation? 

Song-fic: …. I'd suggest going to yahoo launch and scouting out Rod Stewarts song 'Weak'. You'll notice I've used a snippet it from the lyrics in this chapter somewhere. 

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Guilt is such a persistent pain in the arse, Kagome knows only too well. She wants to heal, but is afraid of what must be done when her heart is mended. Hitori discovers new hidden aspects of her and comes to a new degree of …obsession maybe? Or something else?

Genre: Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  As I've said before, Inspiration is a fickle bitch (well, Sesshoumaru was thinking it). The last chapter I had a hard time moving it forward, and this chapter won't seem to shut up and leave me alone. Every few minutes, I'd be opening the document again and typing feverishly. Fickle, fickle, fickle. And As I was plotting my plot, I figured this story is going to be a long one. I've never been known to write little short things, really. Some of you may know me as The Author of Burning Roses and it's sequel. So you know exactly what I mean. The minute I finished the last chapter, I started on this one. Did you know I was up till 3:50 A.M. last night typing this? Gah! Ahh, but you're just ecstatic aren't you? While I'm sitting here drooping with fatigue. Poor pitiful little me, My muses victim. Damn.  

Era, to all those lovely reviews; Thank you, I love you all. In a purely platonic sense, so please don't get all "Oh God! Run for the freakin Hills!" on me. And I would answer you all in this, but I feel that I would be distracting you all from the story. But hey, if you want me to respond, let me know. I will.

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    _"_I wanna heal, I wanna feel, What I thought was never real
    
    I wanna let go of the pain I've felt so long
    
    Erase all the pain til' it's gone
    
    I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I'm close to something real
    
    I wanna find something I've wanted all along
    
    Somewhere I belong." 

-Linkin Park. _Somewhere I belong_. 

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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

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            Chapter Five: Solitary Confinement .

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Solitude is a strange thing indeed; fickle as a rose. Sometimes it could be painful, inducing aching loneliness in one so powerful they were desperate for anyone, anything to relive it. Misery loves company after all, and solitude was often the sire of misery. It could eat away at you from the inside, setting in from the outside and forming the feeling of walls closing in. Defeating you and tearing away at your mind, destroying any peaceful and hopeful thoughts you may have called to your aid. It could drive you insane, should you loose the way. This was the thorns, the pricking pain of true horror.

And then, there was always the opposite. Solitude was composed of two different sides. Much like the masks of the theater, one always smiling in perpetual joy, the other crying tears that would never cease their flow, Solitude was the very same. 

Some sought solitude in the hopes of gaining inner peace that could otherwise not be attained. For them, their was no pain, merely a sense of completion, as thoughts spiraled out of control. This face of solitude was the mother of philosophy. Deep thoughts spilt from great minds. It could be the caring caress of inspiration, or invention. Many wonderful things could be achieved in the solitude. This was the flower, the bloom of true beauty.

One or the other. Either way, you were going to be pricked. Such was the blessing of the Rose. Such was the curse of Solitude.

It had hardly occurred to Kagome to actually think of going home. Whether it was the terrible fear that Inuyasha was there waiting for her, sharp arsenal of mockery and accusations or just the strange unconscious ties that Hitori seemed to have woven around her, it was unclear. She knew she had to go home eventually, then still later on, return to the past to finish her duties. But at the moment, her wound gave her the excuse she sought to forget. 

Yet, as hard as she tried the guilt would not be forgotten, would not be passed to the back of her mind. 

Kagome, settled on her side in a curled position, one hand tucked under her chin, the other hanging limply over the bed's edge, bit her lip hard to keep in sobs. Even so, an occasional strangled cry escaped the prison of her lips. Her vision was dark, for her eyes were drawn shut. So tight shut were they, that her lashes –damp as they were and sparkling with crystal shards of salt liquid- tickled her skin. 

What reason did she have to be guilty? She'd betrayed no one, for she was going to return. He didn't love her anyways, and since he no longer had her there to be a distraction to him he could get on with his little trysts with the claymation without having to be secretive about it. He had what he wanted. 

While she did not, she would have to deal with it. There were other fish in the sea right? Pity, Kagome never really liked fish. She snorted agitated, though it came out more of a pathetic gurgle then anything else. Despite her reasoning, she was still being strangled by guilt. 

She would go back. There was nothing that was going to stop her from finishing her duties. It was just that she needed healing time. _In more ways then one_, she thought sardonically, the hand the had previously found draping off the bed great hang time coming up to place a feather light touch over her bandage wrapped wound, then floating up and tracing the area over her heart. 

Her eyes slid open, glistening like gems from the tears they'd recently bathed in. 

She would go back. She would. Just when … when she was ready. When her heart didn't spasm in pain at the thought of him. When it only ached with the pain of a bruise and not the spiking agony of a broken heart. 

Till then, she would have to focus completely on healing, on bettering herself, her mind and body. When the hole in her flesh was closed, leaving only puckered, tender flesh as a testament of its existence she would do… _something _to make herself stronger. She didn't know what that something was exactly, but it would take more the martial arts to defeat a foe of Naraku's caliber.  

Kagome sighed, but this time, it did not echo in the sun warmed room as it had in the shrine. For now, sadness would serve little purpose and merely bend her back under its crippling weight. It was fine to mourn and grieve over a broken heart, but all things broken could mend, could they not? Given time, a broken bone would heal. All it needed was to be properly set and taken care of. A barren garden could be cultivated and cared for, slowly urged to life once more with only the right touch. 

A broken heart… a betrayed one, could be healed with time and patience and with the help of someone stronger then herself. Someone who'd been through this kind of agony before and knew the way. Someone who could be her guide.  

With that last, somewhat optimistic thought, Kagome's eyes fluttered shut again, "Weak as I am, no tears for you. I'm nobody's fool. Weak as I am…" Her voice petered off as sleep pulled her into deep bliss. 

Standing outside the door, Sesshoumaru arched a delicate brow having heard her words. He'd been about to go in there and tell her to stop her blubbering, but sleep had obviously beaten him to the punch. Not to mention the words she'd whispered had a strange effect on him. His eyes narrowed; if memory served correctly… She'd been very loyal to Inuyasha, and from her allusion to a broken heart (at least, he suspected it was broken; what other ailment could be destroying her from the inside out?) that loyalty didn't come from the spring of friendship. Putting a few more pieces into the puzzle such as Inuyasha's romps in the woods and late night meetings with the living corpse…..Ah ha! The foolish girl had loved his moronic half sibling and was now suffering from his blatant choosing of death over the love she so generously offered him. And, obviously this had been reason enough for her to turn her back on him and walk away. Which was where the guilt came in.  Once again, Sesshoumaru found himself amazed at his half brother's idiocy. 

Frowning, he turned on his heel and skitted to the door down the hall, opening it and into the sanctuary that was his studio. The white door closed behind him with a push of mental persuasion. 

The studio was in all effects quite large. Bigger then his own room which was rather huge in itself, it housed everything of any value to him. One wall was composed entirely of shelves that held up tomes and scrolls and the occasional book such as William Shakespeare (who he'd had the pleasure of meeting once, brilliant man) and many other play writes of great stature. There were books containing wisdom of the ages, scrolls holding ancient secrets (every one hundred and fifty years or so, he transcribed new copies of them in order to preserve their readability), tomes containing forbidden spells and then there were the random collections of legends and myths from every time. This small library was a small cry from his vast library he'd possessed ages upon ages ago, but it would do till he finished his business in the city and returned to his more peaceful home in the country where the rest of his library waited. 

Upon another wall, a direct contrast to the scholar's dream that resided beside it, was a bit of his armory. Every honorable weapon man had given birth to, a good portion of which rested against the crimson cloth that had been placed over the wall to further bring out the deadly beauty of each blade or other wise, the blood red hue causing the pristine and polished metal to gleam and glow with frozen elegance. 

Sesshoumaru's eyes appraised his collection, stroking over every curved blade or wicked point in morbid pleasure before finally coming to rest on his most prized of possessions. 

Nicked and dull, a fry cry form the pristine blades that surrounded them, the twin fangs had their own majesty that called for the viewer not to underestimate their power. Tensaiga, the sword of Life and Healing, a very perversion to its Katana nature. A sword was meant for killing. And beside it, deadly power dripping from it in waves, Tetsusaiga, a fang that could slaughter thousands in one fell sweep yet created for the soul purpose of protection. 

The fangs of his father, the bastard.

Sesshoumaru grunted, moving his gaze from the twin katana's, landing on the one blade that reeked of malignant blood thirst and corruptive power. A blade that only he'd been able to master, since it's mindless killing wants were below him and he had a will that would not bend to a sword with lustful urges. Toujikin was in no way the beautiful weapons he collected, rather a dangerous and cruel weapon that was very true to its nature. It killed, and it enjoyed to be bathed in blood. 

And he could sense its want for Kagome's blood. The greedy blade thirsted for the pure crimson liquid, despite the fact that she could very well destroy it. The taiyoukai growled and blocked the katana's slavering and urgings. 

Petty mind games. _Though_, he thought keeping his full attention on the blade and it's tainted glow, _Toujikin has been unusually active lately_. Come to think of it, it had risen from it's dormant state completely now. The only thing that kept the darkness of the blade in tight reign was the Sword of Life that rested beside it. 

The only way for it to awaken would be if he'd done it himself. 

He had not. His eyes narrowed, possible reasons for the swords reactivation flying through his agile mind. Perhaps it was the miko… and the sword was acting in its defense. Her powers must be attempting to purify it. Probably why it desperately wanted to spill her blood. 

Without his immediate notice, he found himself marveling at the girl's power. She wasn't even aware of it. Also, if he was correct, her power seemed to be growing. Or, slowly awakening from whatever slumber it had been in and what he'd seen of it before, this was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.  A shiver of something akin to anticipation filtered through his veins. 

Turning away from the sword knowing it could do nothing so long as he did not wish it, he found his eyes glued to the large blank canvas prepped to be the newest portal to another world. 

He stepped up to it, crossing his arms over his chest, mulling over what magic he would weave into the now blank canvas using his paintbrushes and oil mediums. 

Unbidden the image of Kagome sitting upon the bed, the very picture of tainted purity came to the fore of his mind. Yes, it would do perfectly. A little warping of reality here and there and it would be a wonderful masterpiece. 

Looking over his shoulder at the innocuous sketchbook he'd slammed down on the desk in a small tizzy some minutes ago. A tizzy because the girl still didn't fully trust him. Without that trust he'd never be able to understand her and get rid of his attachment to her. She'd plagued him for decades and by god, now that he had her in his reach he wasn't about to let her go till he knew why he was so obsessed with her.

Without that trust, he'd only see a half of her, as the other half would be hidden away. If he had her full trust, then she'd wear no masks around him and he could observe and come to understand. 

Picking up a charcoal pencil of sorts, he moved to the sketchbook and flipped it to the pages that he'd filled with sketches of her. Her expressions, her shock and sickened wonder as she stared at the abyss of her blood against the pale pigment of her flesh. The study of light as it fell around her form and the way his shirt on her small frame made her already delicate appearance turn to the fragility of spun sugar, the marvelous play of emotions she seemed to radiate and the nest of snow blankets twisted about her. 

After a thorough examination, he returned to the canvas, setting the lackluster tip of the charcoal to the white surface and moved it in quick, gentle jerks. 

Slowly her form was captured forever in that one moment of time. A memory laid to canvas. 

It was funny, he mused as he drew refining the sweeps of charcoal and adding a simple amount of shading that would serve as the blue print before paint would be applied. How such a fragile form housed such a strong soul and heart. Even more amusing was the power that she carried deep inside her. Fragile, but not. Like the silken web of a spider.

For every dream there is a reoccurring nightmare. Kagome's sleep was surprisingly void of any imagery what so ever, not even memories playing behind her lids. In her slumber, the magick she'd been born with stirred and began its duties to mend her wound. Very slowly, torn muscle was tightened and knit together, magical threads encouraging healing as the layers of skin were pulled nano-millimeter by nano-millimeter closer together. It was a tedious task, for no healing is ever achieved within moments. 

The magick sought out infectious germs and other such foreign matter, annihilating it with little mercy. It sped the three types of blood cells reproduction, the plasma jumping into a frenzy, the red cells accelerating their out put and the white cells moving swifter in their duties.  

Her heart rate slowed, the steady beats growing stronger but no less louder. 

Sleep drugged mind registered nothing of what the magick was doing. Slumbering olfactory senses did not notice the mint scent dancing with particles of  air, and closed eyes saw not the delicate, miniscule, pulsating lightning bolts frizz the air before flashing from existence. 

An hour or so later however, Sesshoumaru noticed the static friction in the air and froze in his movements, nostrils flaring to detect any wayward scent. The mint flavored air tickled his senses, and while it was not entirely unpleasant, it was not the natural scent of his home. He blinked, dazed by the intoxicating aroma, pushing it's tendrils from closing in on his mind and realized that it was originating from the room that held Kagome. 

   More intrigued then alarmed, he set down the charcoal and left his studio. The closer he got to the bedroom , the thicker the air became with the heady scent of mint and morning dew. The back of his neck prickled as small hairs stood at end, the static in the room as he stepped over the threshold that strong. 

It was much like standing on an electrically charged field after a lightening storm, though mint replaced ozone in this case. And from the looks of it, the storm was still raging. On a near microscopic level of course.

Tiny sparks flitted around the lump on the bed, and Sesshoumaru didn't dare approach her with the scent of magick heavy in the room. Even being this close was dangerous to him; despite his 'human' body he was still very much youkai and that magick had the potential to purify him right out of existence. Subtly, Kagome's true was laced through the mint, still there but not quite. 

Ever so slowly, the minted scent dissipated, the sparks fizzing then dying completely. Morning dew and water-lilies replaced the heady aroma, though they were no less mind teasing. Though the short hairs at the back of his neck as well as the ones on him arms were still at attention, he could feel the static in the room lessen then disappear completely.  Still, his senses were screaming for him to be wary. The physical traces may have vanished, but that did not mean that they were totally gone. He wasn't stupid. And he wasn't about to have his youki be purified, thank you kindly. So, he crossed his arms back over his chest willing her to wake up as he was certain that her powers would fall back into dormancy and he'd be in no relative danger of purification when she was fully conscious.

 He was a taiyoukai, and could no doubt hold off the touch of her purification but it would nonetheless hurt like a bloody bitch and he was not in anyway masochistic. Better safe then singed, he figured. 

When the girl showed no signs of life, and her powers showed no signs of attacking him, he leaned down and touched the pale flesh of her cheek, barely brushing his knuckles over the velvet flesh, then nearly leapt from his skin when he was shocked by a little bolt of electricity far stronger then a static buzz. 

Well, if that little display of magick was what he thought it was, then he'd have to see if she could sit up without any pain. Her necromancy had most likely been mending her flesh, it was a tendancy of any creature of power. When wounded, their powers focused on the healing process. Some creatures, like himself, had the level of control where they could either focus only on healing, or only focusing enough power to the area that had been injured to keep it from bleeding while the rest of the power was used for something else. Such as protection. And that was why he'd been zapped like he had.

Typically, only the creatures with higher a mentality could do this trick, which was probably why all the lesser youkai had died out decades ago. Poor mindless brutes that they were. 

Sesshoumaru shook himself from the long trail of nostalgia and turned to leave the room. Casting one last glace at the powerful little thing on the bed, blissful in her sleep he slid out the door intent on returning to his work.  Pity, it would have been lovely to stick around and see what happens next. He glanced down at the very hand that had been zapped and wasn't at all amused to see that it had turned pink. 

He vowed then that he would not set foot inside that room unless she called for him, then wondered how long he would have to wait. Several new epitaphs and highly flammable wordings were added to the Book of Bad.

End chapter.

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 Another note from your brilliant author1 Hey now, don't think all those bad thought at once! And about me no less! For shame… Anywhoozels, behold the power of my smart ness! A plot twist, Toujikin's getting restless but not for the reason you think. Muahahahha! But I'm not going to tell you why, you're the reader, it's your duty to be held at the edge of your seat and trying to figure out all these random clues that are so not easy to detect. But, I know someone may catch on, though I've been credited for being as confusing as hell in a hand basket and high on speed. If someone can guess why Toujikin is starting to act up then I'll do a one shot for them or something. An Inuyasha one-shot centering around whatever pairing you (should you guess correctly, or at least as close to it as possible) want. Maybe. Don't know. Popcorn anyone?  ::scarfs out::


	7. Chapter Six: Sizzling Language

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation? 

Song-fic: …. I'd suggest going to yahoo launch and scouting out Rod Stewarts song 'Weak'. You'll notice I've used a snippet it from the lyrics in this chapter somewhere. 

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Strange happenings are afoot, and a midnight call is made to an agent in the search for information on Kagome; A nice spot of tea will do nicely to calm one's soul. Or in this case rising headaches…not that they are mentioned. 

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  Well, no one guessed why the Toujikin was begging for blood and very much awake, though one person came so very close to it, but not quite. Either way, the offer still stands. It would not be fair to me to only give you so little clues and expect you to piece together the mystery. But, Some very kind soul corrected me on my spelling of Toukijin, for which I give them great kudos. Doomo Arigatou, you marvelous person you. 

In answer to Silver Kitsune, I pointed out in one chapter that Sesshoumaru had spies. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer and all that. I'm sure half of this is the reason why Sesshoumaru knew where to find Inuyasha when ever he sought the Tetsusaiga. As for the second bit, Kagome's going to get her head out of her sorrow and ask to call her mother soon enough, just at the moment she'd rather hide, as cowardly as it seems. And I don't think Sesshoumaru really thinks much on her angst for he himself is still sore over his father's betrayal of his mother. That kind of thing is something that sticks with you for a long time. And since he's lived so long a human year to him must seem like a mere second of his life so things that happened five hundred years ago are still as fresh as last month's happenings. Besides, I have a bit of a surprise in this chapter. I'm sure it'll drop your jaws, or at least have you …surprised. Yes, yes it will. 

                                                                                         _________________________________         

"It's only forever,

Not long at all.

Lost and Lonely

No one can blame you

For walking away

Too much rejection,

No love injection.

Life can be easy,

It's not always swell.

Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl

'Cause it hurts like hell." 

- David Bowie, The Labyrinth opening theme. 

________________________

Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

____________________________________________  

            Chapter Six: Sizzling Language.

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Night arrived with a flourish of her velvet skirts, dusted with dozens upon dozens of minuscule diamonds. The moon, a grand pearl linked to the chain of the milky way, was fat with the gathered glow of the sun's rays, lancing them down on the slumbering city. The silver blue beams bathed the glass towers and concrete building a curious hue, enchanting and frozen in its beauty, as cold as the sun's liquid gold was warm.

In a particular tower, the lights were on in a single room or rather studio where a lone figure worked diligently. If it could be called work that is. Rather, it seemed more that he was enspelling canvas. His left arm moved in fluid ways characteristic of a mage's arcane motions when chanting a spell, while the right held up a pallet with a mixing of hues. Yet, no such spell was being woven aside from the magic that was worked upon the once blank canvas. With each effortless motion a new splash of color was added to the tapestry. Each brush stroke was another thread, that when complete would tell a story. 

The energy in the motions apparently exhausted the man, for he finally stepped back from the canvas. Oddly hued eyes appraised the magic he had wrought, as he placed the pallet and brushes down upon the stool just in front of the easel upon with the canvas rested. Sweeping the back of his palm over his forehead, he turned away from his work, arms swinging around to his back to untie the ties of his pigment blotched apron then pulled it from over his head and hooking it on it's peg on the easel. 

Sesshoumaru heaved a sigh, entirely satisfied with what he had done. One small step yes, but then Rome hadn't been built in a day. 

Examining his work, he praised himself on such an exquisite beginning. To an uneducated eye it would seem nothing more then chaotically placed blobs of paint, but to the trained one it was a marvelous promise of something great once finished. 

_Leonardo Da Vinci could not have done better himself_, Sesshoumaru congratulated himself smugly. An ingenious mix of impressionism and a great amount of detail, with a touch that was all his own. He had paid special attention the lighting of the scene, twisting the rays in such a way the light seemed to really be radiating from the girl in the painting, coiling around her form like waves of holy power, then gentle sweeps of a finely bristled brush had somehow managed to mold a few stray beams of light and shadow into wings that seemed to be woven from that of spiders silk arching from her back.

In some odd way, Kagome would become to him, what Mona Lisa was to Da Vinci. 

Padding over to the door, Sesshoumaru gave an absent look at his hands and found them to have several now dried paints smears. He frowned and altered course to the bathroom. Having random colors on one's hand was rather unbecoming, taiyoukai included. And the hues really clashed with his complexion. 

The cool running water ran with streams of red and creamed colors as Sesshoumaru rubbed his hands clean of the slick nearly slimy oil paints. He did not bother to glance at his reflection, instead his mind wandered as it seemed prone to. Briefly, he pondered over Toukijin's call for blood for breakfast – his lips twitched at his awful play on words- then pin wheeled off to another thought. Such as when his agent would call him with news on his newest book and whether or not the publisher was in love and had decided to put it on the shelves in the fall. He had no doubt that it would be a positive answer.

The little rat of a man would have been a fool to turn down his book. 

Sesshoumaru pulled a small hand towel from its rack and began the task of drying his hands, turning several more thoughts in his mind. One of them came to the fore quite quickly and he nearly slapped himself for not thinking it sooner. He had an injured girl in his home, missing for over eight hours… someone had to have noticed and called the police. If he didn't want to deal with _those_ incompetent fools (given there was no way that they could possibly pinpoint him and all that nonsense), he'd have to find out how to solve this little problem.

He grunted, throwing the towel down into the laundry basket and moved out of the full bathroom. There was no need to shut off the lights for the lights had not been turned on during his stay. He was a youkai; night vision was a part of the fangs, claws and other marvelous powers package.

In the studio once again, he rifled through his phone book for the last name of Higurashi, though his eyes did wander to the painting once or twice and the paints he had yet to put away. In the phone book, he found seventy-five listings under that one surname; this was a Tokyo phone book after all. Annoyed he slammed the book back into it's drawer and shut it, gaining some small satisfaction from the bang of oaken wood on oaken wood. Leaning back in his office chair, Sesshoumaru sighed heavily and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, positively peeved with the whole ridiculous affair. _Should have taken her to the hospital.  _Curiosity killed the bloody cat, and was currently making short work of the dog. Skinning it. Bah.

He didn't even know if the girl lived with _anyone_, or if she like him, confined herself to solitude in order to keep the secret of her aging, or lack thereof, a secret. For all he knew, she could live with a family that had lived as long as she had. 

Sesshoumaru didn't like not knowing anything of true importance of his enemy, or whatever Kagome was to him. His Mona Lisa, his mystery, the pain that she was proving to be even asleep. 

He eyed the drawer again, very much annoyed with the seventy-five names he'd have to mess around with and the though of melting the book was proving to be the forbidden fruit. Another page was added to his Book of Bad as he leaned down and hauled the evil book from it's dwelling, silently vowing never to lend a helping hand again, obsessions or curiosity be damned. And compassion right along with them.

But, damn him, he couldn't just have left her there to bleed to death. She was his enigma, a puzzle box yet to be solved. He'd taken her up as such the moment he allowed his claws to shred the bum's life, the moment he had placed her on his coffee table and began to task of caring for her. 

He'd made his bed, now he'd have to sleep in it, as the saying went. He frowned, what moron had come up with that little adage anyways? Besides, he smirked, there was already someone sleeping in his bed. Once more, his expression quickly soured, as that someone needed to get _out_ of his bed. 

Giving up on the phone book, he shoved it back into the drawer it seemed to have been spawned from and went to his rolodex in search of his trusted agents number to see if he would divulge precious information on one Higurashi Kagome (and why had he not thought of this before? Where in bloody hell had his mind gone?). The afore mentioned number was the first one in the rolodex, much to his relief, and he glanced at the digits, memorizing them. With the never before used number ingrained in memory, simply because his agent was always the one to call him for whatever reason, Sesshoumaru rose from the chair and padded out of the studio, lights going out once he was five steps down the hall. The door as well slid shut, lock clicking into place and holding tight. 

The smooth plastic casing of the black cordless phone was cool against the skin of his palms, even as he punched glowing green keys oddly reminiscent of the green poison his claws could excrete. Each little bleep that accompanied each press of the button irritated his sensitive hearing, but it was a necessary evil should he wish to speak to the young man that played the role of his agent. 

Sesshoumaru couldn't help the lilting smirk that twisted his lips as he entertained the thought of how his dear friend would react at his random inquiry. 

On the other side, the phone twittered and chirped a few times before something crashed into it and a sluggish hand lifted the receiver. A sleep drugged voice answered though the fatigue was quickly replaced by annoyance. 

"If this is who I think it is, and I know it is, then you had bloody well have a good reason for waking me up at-" the owver of the peeved voice paused, checking the time, "At one thirty in the bleedin' moring! What in the seven hells are you trying to pull Hito-fuck that- Sesshoumaru? Have you gone mad? You must have, calling people at ungodly hours of the bleedin' morning." 

Sesshoumaru had found a speck of paint on his index nail in the meantime and was currently prying it off, absently listening to the tirade on the other side, phone cradled between his shoulder and cheek. 

The lull in the rant was his cue. His voice rippled from his tongue, his question carrying through the phone and electrical pulses to come out in the other man's ear. 

"What can you tell me about Higurashi Kagome?" 

Immediate shocked and pained silence quickened the other's heart; Sesshoumaru fancied the organ to have skipped several beats then to make up for missed time start pumping with feverish violence. 

Sesshoumaru bit back his chuckle, examining his nails then his person for any more paint specks. He found none. 

"Okay, you are fuckin' cruel. Wha- no, why are you asking me about Kagome?" 

The taiyoukai felt his lips lift in the familiar smirk that would have had people wanting to hit him with something blunt and heavy, preferably a statue of some sort. A very big one, provided they could lift it. 

He said: "Oh come now, you know the rules; I asked you first. Answer my question and then I'll enlighten you with the answer to yours"

His ear rang with a few choice words from the other man, and he rolled his eyes. The boy had obviously been in his brother's company for far too long in the past. 

" Oh, fine. But you'd better keep your end of the bargain." The boy griped, then muttered a few more epitaphs concerning other things Sesshoumaru could do at one thirty-four in the morning, and in great detail, to get his daily amusement. One of which included him and a… Sesshoumaru nearly gagged. Where on earth did this boy come up with these thoughts and ideas? Or was he just that creative? 

Bah, humans. Where else?

"Don't I always?" He asked, frowning. 

"Pompous ass." His agent groused. 

Sesshoumaru's frown deepened, "Are you drunk?" His agent was never usually this volatile. Then again, he never really bothered to call his agent at 'ungodly hours of the bleedin' morning' either. 

The response was a violent one. "Oh, go knock up a nun. I am not drunk, thank you very much. Do you want me to answer your damned question or not? Other wise I'm gonna hang up and you can annoy someone else."

"So sorry. You have-"

"Shut. Up. Kagome, right. Grrrreat." He grumbled some more, then yawned. Sesshoumaru heard the bones pop, and arched a brow. " Well, she was a miko, you know that, but she wasn't … Kami, how to explain all this." 

"Spit it out, I haven't got all night to shoot the breeze."  Sesshoumaru grinded. 

"Who called who, you ass? Kagome, well, she wasn't born in the Sengoku Jidai, rather, she was transported by a well, which was more of a rip in time or something. Like a loop of time circled in on itself and the points it met at was what created the portal that she traveled through. Err, something like that. Anyways, she's really from _this_ time, I believe… I only gleaned so much info from her when I was a kit, but the jist of it was that she had been dragged through the well and into the past by a demon of some sort because it sensed the Shikon in her and, well, you know, the greedy bastard wanted it for itself. So anyways, she came back through the well, from the what was the future-"

"Yes, yes, I get that. What else?" Sesshoumaru intervened, impatient. 

"Don't get your panties in a twist, hun. I'm doing the best I can. It'd be easier if I had her here to help."   

Sesshoumaru glared at the wall he was staring at, knowing full well that the boy was having a good time teasing him. The little sadist. 

"So she came back from what was the future to the past, which about then was our present and somehow created a band of misfits, as you know I'm sure. You did after all try to kill us a few times. By the way, was that fun? You must have enjoyed it, seeing as how "Die Inuyasha" somehow became your catch phrase." 

Sesshoumaru's left eyebrow twitched. He flexed his hand not occupied with holding the phone, in want of a throat to wring. 

The boy's voice took on a more somber note as he continued, "Well, we went on gathering shards and I noticed that Kagome was, at the time I didn't know what _it_ was, but I noticed that she was falling in _love_ with Inuyasha. But that moron was too freakin' tied up with that corpse. Kagome, we could all tell that she was hurting badly. Then one night she just went home. At first we all thought that she'd been kidnapped or something like that because she left her pack, I still have some of the stuff… Inuyasha finally figured out that she went back to her time. But when he went to get her he couldn't, she…she must've sealed the well on her side. Kami…" 

The taiyoukai features softened as he listened to the boy choke up. "I see now. Thank you Shippou. I'll answer your questions now if you like, and I'll set up the guest room for you as well."

"Huh? Why? The guest room I mean?" The voice, now revealed as Shippou, on the other side was very much confused. 

"Because, Your long lost Kagome has been stabbed, don't worry she's doing fine. And she's here with me. Of course, she doesn't know it's me, to her I'm Hitori." 

"I'll be there first thing in the morning. Wait, how are we supposed to… er, explain this all to her, you and I and all that I mean?" 

"Well cross that particular bridge when we get to it, I'll be expecting you in the morning then. Ja ne, Shippou." Sesshoumaru clicked the phone back into it's cradle before the kitsune could exchange the parting formality, and leaned back against the counter to digest the new bit of information he'd just been fed. The  red light of the charge button flowed from the phone and filled the room with a dim aura. 

He sighed, closing his eyes a moment and shifting his weight. What to do, what to do? Well, he supposed the best way would be to 'cross that bridge' when the time came. 

Flying by the seat of his pants wasn't his style but there was hardly any other choice. That little problem averted, Sesshoumaru headed back down the darkened hallway to check on the girl once more then put away his paints and cover the painting. That and hide it in the back room…

Should Shippou get nosy and start poking around in the studio, the painting of Kagome would have to be well hidden otherwise the kit would get the wrong ideas and never let him live it down. Sesshoumaru wasn't about to have that annoying boy all over him about having any sort of feelings towards the girl. Shippou had always been of the mind that Sesshoumaru should get a woman. Hell if he knew why. The boy was so uptight about families, and Sesshoumaru could understand that, poor boy, no matter how old he was never got over the loss of his parents or Kagome. A few hundred years ago, Sesshoumaru had found the young adolescent Shippou and earned his trust and, therefore became his adoptive father (what was with all these orphans suddenly voting him 'Papa' anyways?) and from then on, the cunning little fox had tried to match him up with a few females. However they were all half hearted and Sesshoumaru wagered it was because the kit felt no one could quite take Kagome's place. 

Therefore it was safe, though not sane, to assume the little matchmaker would try to pair him up with the miko. It was probably going to be like some sort of demented parent trap run by the Kitsune from Hell….

Sesshoumaru's left eyebrow twitched; he was going to make some tea. Some nice, relaxing tea…then he was going to melt the phone book, check on the girl, or more specifically her wound. It was rather odd that she'd not woken up since the after noon, but then, he supposed her natural healing powers were taking their toll on her. They would until she had better control over them, without that control she could expend far much more then what was needed and overthrow her boundaries thus rendering her exhausted…

Right; tea. Good, steaming chamomile tea with a dollop of honey and perhaps a good book… There was always the morning to puzzle out his little project, and Shippou would prove to be a valuable asset to him in the way of the miko.  

Experience was, in effect, the best teacher. 

End chapter.

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	8. Chapter Seven: Everything Was Wonderful ...

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation? 

Song-fic: Uerk….::searches franticly:: Well, just listen to a random song. Ot how about "Wonderful again" (correct title?) by Everclear. 

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Shippou arrives at the scene, ready to be reunited with his adoptive mother. However….

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  BWAHAHAHA! …. Ha!…::clears throat:: There, now that _that's_ out of my demented system, I can get on with this note. Uerk…. And, of course, I forgot what I was going to say. ::Bangs head into desk chanting in some sort of macabre worship mantra.:: @,@. Whooo…. SO, anyways, there was this _fruit_ walking down the street right? And…wait, that's not it. Gahh! Oh, right, right. Thank you all for the marvelous reviews. They really perk a psycho up, really they do. As for who guessed the closest on Toujikin feeling it's oats ::laugh, laugh, laugh:: was Eden. Congrats, fellow author, do pick up your prize sometime. ^___^. And yes, SilverRaven, you are right on the money with George Carlin. He amuses me immensely. "I am indeed highly dandy. However, fine…" And thank you so very much for the wonderful review. I feel praised. And, do you know Steve Martin- I believe his name is. He's very amusing as well. Here's one by dear George. "Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?" ::cackles::

I have a bit more humor in this, as I said above in the Genre area, I can't be strait out angsty if My life depended on…it…That sounds kind of Ironic, does is not? Angsty, life depended on it…anyone seeing what I'm seeing? Yes, No? But, One part humor, two parts angst mixed in with our lovely little sarcasm, beaten with a stick not shaken, than you very much. And what do we have? I have no idea but you can find it below, since I'm just killing space right now. Babbling. Shutting up. 

            _________________________________       

" Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first and the lesson afterward." –Vernon Law. 

____________

Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

____________________________________________  

            Chapter Seven: Everything Was Wonderful Again.

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It was the pungent aroma of mint that startled Sesshoumaru from his nostalgic state in the wee hours of morning. The sun's rays had just barely crawled over the horizon, spearing through fat clouds with brilliant lances of golden colors. He shook the sluggishness from his mind, dislodging memory after past memory from the fore of thoughts he was chewing over. Sampling the air, he decided there was nothing to truly worry over; Kagome's powers were just active once more. As long as he did not show himself a threat, he would not be toyed with. The scent wasn't as strong as when it had first tickled his senses. 

 As it was, he had work to do. The guest room wasn't self-prepping. 

Sitting at his table, the guest room properly fixed up in preparation for Shippou's visit, Sesshoumaru quietly read the newspaper that conveniently stationed itself outside his door each morning. He was unsurprised to see that the headlines read of the bum's death at an unknown 'beings' hands, since there was no possible way that any man made weapon was able to do so much damage to the vertebrae in the neck, no weapon was able to slice through tendons and arteries like a knife through soft butter. And the corpse (which he was surprised to find that it had not decomposed or been eaten away by his acid venom) showed signs of having something not unlike battery acid, only ten times more potent. Or, police speculated, some other viscous and erosive chemical of that sort. There was further speculation on whether there was yet _another_ psycho killer out on the streets, prowling for victims. Waiting in the shadows to strike quick and hard then fleeing, leaving a wake of blood and entrails. "_Who would be struck next_?" the paper asked. The police were stuck scratching their heads over the whole thing. And the fact that there was barely even any evidence left to go by whatsoever left them positively befuddled. All they had in the way of clues was the residue of the strange acid. There was little else. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no clear murder weapon, not even a single strand of hair. Nothing. Just acid.  

He snorted, gentlemanly of course, and turned the page, a papery and musty smell fanning his face, to the stocks to check on his own investments. As if he, Sesshoumaru, would waist _his _time killing random people. Not bloody likely. There were more interesting things he could part take in. Thusly, he ignored the headliner and went on with his reading, lips twitching occasionally in either disgust at the political workings of things or amusement over others. He did, however, congratulate himself over the simple chaos he'd caused.   

At about seven thirty a.m. several things happened at once. One, the hall outside the door of his pent house rumbled with the growling of the elevator as it crawled up its steep hole of steel and concrete. Two, the minty scent suddenly leapt into the foreground harassing his sensitive senses with it's tantalizing promise of dormant power. Three, the private phone line came to sudden, shrill life, chirping merrily on it's hook, the ID flashing "Lobby" at him as he lifted the offending noise maker from it's nook to bark a "What?" into the phone. The abrupt activity of necromancy was putting him on edge.

The receptionist- a meek little thing really- gave a startled squeak then promptly told him that a maniac was storming up to see him, gallivanting about like a lunatic and only partially dressed.

 Ah, yes, that confirmed it; Shippou had arrived. 

That little item of business attended to, he growled a "Thank you, Miss" then delicately slammed the now quiet phone back to it's cradle where it gave a half-hearted hiccup and remained silent. 

Several heartbeats afterwards, he felt and heard the growling monster that was the elevator come to a squealing halt (they really should see to that, he mused) and 'bing' importantly, announcing its passenger to the vacant hall, then listened to the doors slowly slide open. There was a muffled curse, and the doors hissed as the occupant of the elevator pushed his way out with brute force. Or, at most, tried to. The elevator was putting up a decent fight from the sounds of it.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, listening to the cacophony of hardy curses and machinery complaints about the rough treatment, with nary a twitch. Tough, he did lift a brow when words that could very well turn an acid to a base flitted through the corridor, surely peeling the paint off the walls. Said words were promptly followed by a frantic yelp, a bang then a "HA!" of apparent victory and, finally, light foot falls reverberated in his eardrums. 

The kit would need to learn patience soon; Sesshoumaru was not interested in trying to explain to his land lord why there was several dents in the shiny chrome elevator (as he was certain there where, judging by the volatility of the words.) and why there were scorch marks on the walls. He didn't think "I didn't do it" would cut it with that stick-terminally-up-arse man. 

 After a long, suspicious pause, his front door clicked and opened, revealing a tousled young man wearing what seemed to be something of a cross between pajamas, business clothes and…something else. Sesshoumaru stared at the youth a moment then went back to sipping his up till now neglected tea. It was lukewarm; he hated that.

The grown kitsune finished his panting, rubbing his toe as he eyed the entirely too calm countenance of his foster father. How very annoying. Sesshoumaru acted so nonchalant, as though he didn't have someone so very important lost so very long ago in his care. Every hard angle and line that composed the taiyoukai denoted calm casualty, though this didn't fool Shippou one iota. Sesshoumaru was just the kind of guy who could be leaning against a wall in complete relaxation, seemingly oblivious to the goings on of the world around him one second and flying into a blur of motion that more often then not ended up in a fatal experience for whoever was at the business end of his claws the next. One never quite knew what the bloke was going to do next. That was probably one of the scarier things about him.

That aside, Shippou grinned with impish delight, dropping his leg back to the floor (his big toe was a little tender, but the elevator had come out in worse shape).  

"Oh, I've been a naughty boy." He caroled, moving to the counter and hauling himself up onto the veneer of marble. 

Sesshoumaru approached the bait then dropped it, uninterested.

 "Indeed." He sniffed, and then sipped from his beverage, coal eyelashes brushing his pale cheek as he closed his eyes. 

Shippou pouted and lowered his head in mock sadness. His lips quirked in a frown when he realized that the buttons of his black silk shirt were askew. He unbuttoned it and restarted, speaking as he did so, peeking up through flaming strands of hair. For all that gel he used, his hair refused to be tamed protesting even his traditional ponytail. Why did he bother? Bah, honestly.

"Oh, come now. Aren't you going to ask me what I've been doing?" He wheedled, bouncing from foot to foot exhibiting all the antsy characteristics of a five year old with some grand achievement he wished to show off. Shippou would be the first to tell anyone that his banter with Sesshoumaru was routine and that he very much enjoyed it. It was a kick to seek out buttons to press on Sesshoumaru, then stand back and see what transpired. Experience gave him caution, but trust allowed him to throw that same caution to the four winds and charge in with a war cry.

" 'Knocking up' nuns and defiling other such holy markers? Or have you given that up? Very well, what have you been doing, you little deviant." Sip. Exhale. 

Shippou closed one eye and wagged a finger in the taiyoukai's general vicinity. 

"Tsk, tsk, Sessy. You know I'm too...ah, what was the word for it?" The hand not connected to the condescending finger of moments ago came up and rubbed thoughtfully at its owner's lightly tanned chin.

Sesshoumaru gave up on his tea, setting it down on the table with a little clatter, thus signifying the mischievous kit that his full attention was now up for the toying. The impish grin widened to face splitting proportions. 

Sesshoumaru offered, ticking off on his fingers as he did so, " Depraved? Desperate? Perverted? You really should learn better manners, or at least seek out better company than with that lecherous monk's offspring." Those oddly hued eyes his foster father now wore fixed their full intensity on him. 

The kitsune wondered which was creepier. Their previous golden hue, or the freaky opaque gold-green of now. Either way, they were just as intense as they were when they were gold. And, foster father or not, Shippou still found himself shivering in something much akin to fear of what power this man before him held. Caution had recovered from its free fall out the window and had crawled back in, a bit of a broken heap but still in good working order. 

Kagome…(and once again, caution was flung out the window) "Oh, hey! Where is she? I'm gonna go see her, hug her to death, wake her up –is she asleep?-…and not entirely in that order." He bounced down from his perch with a dramatic flourish, automatically pinpointing that delicate scent that he knew very well. That he had missed so much over the past five hundred years. The scent of something is the most powerful memory trigger. Just one whiff of something could dig up thousands of images from the past. Shippou's mind flooded with so many memories he'd had to block away because of the pain they caused him, that he was rendered just a tad lightheaded.

Down the hall, well then, that's where he was headed. Finally, after so long… He would _finally_ be able to be held by her arm's that felt like home, and be engulfed in her heavenly scent. He'd be able to feel secure again; as he always had when Inuyasha had been particularly cruel to him with is harsh words and rough treatment. Kagome was home, mother, and family. Everything…he'd lost her once. Now that she was right down that hall, everything was wonderful again. The craving and yearning that had lived inside him since she'd left them all so long ago pounced on him, tearing into him with a vengeance for all those desperate times he'd pushed back memories of Kagome. 

He started forward, painfully happy and bursting with the need to see her, touch her, hear her voice and her serene heartbeat, and _now_. He'd have made it, had an arm of a certain youkai lord not been extended in his path. 

"Patience, foolish one. Going in there now and scaring her might not be to your interest. Take a deep breath, tell me what you smell." The arm was withdrawn, Sesshoumaru closing his eyes once more his warning delivered.

Shippou's eyes pinched in confusion, the dark eyebrows knitting over them. But he did as told, sniffing discretely and warily watching Sesshoumaru out of the corner of his eyes for any signs of a hoax. Just by looking at the former lord, he could tell Sesshoumaru was completely serious and wasn't quite in the mood for tomfoolery. His senses however, distracted his attention from the rigid form at his side, pulling his eyes back down the hall. Dark auburn eyebrows shot up, vanishing under a mess of bangs. 

He took a deeper breath then several more, the way one would do when there was an odd unidentifiable scent dancing in the air and teasing their noses with it's mystery and trying to draw in as much of it as possible to identify it. Mint? His nose tickled… 

After he sneezed, one hand flying up to rub his agitated nose, Shippou dared a look at Sesshoumaru, question in his darkly green eyes. The scent itself was pleasant really, just in small doses. No more deep breathes for a good while. "What is it? The mint-"

"It is the miko's powers. Don't ask me why it is that way. It is and that's enough. She is sleeping but her power is actively healing her. I would not suggest you going in that room till she is fully awake and aware. You have no idea how her power will react to you. Friend or not, you will still register as youkai to it and therefore a threat."

Shippou stared in down at the pale blonde head of spiked hair in absolute shock. Or what could pass for shock. It was more like disbelief. Why would Kagome see him, her adopted son, as a threat? It was ridiculous.  Therefore, Shippou decided, he was going in there. She wouldn't attack him; he had full faith in that. It was fact. He'd waited so long…his heart lurched. She was so close, who was Sesshoumaru to tell him to stay put? He deserved to see her again. Nothing was going to stop him. 

Sesshoumaru had waited five seconds before the boy began moving again, and when that five seconds was up he oh-so-bloody-calmly reached behind him hooking his fingers in the fabric of the black shirt Shippou wore and hauled him back, spinning him around till he was seated opposite him at the table. The end result was a rather frazzled looking kitsune, sputtering in indignant fury. But all that was a clever act, the taiyoukai knew. Inside, Shippou was most assuredly trying his hardest not to burst into tears and bawl his lonely little heart out. He understood the boy's emotions and actions well enough to know what he was thinking as well. Longing for something just out of reach, but painfully close was very aggravating to say the least. 

Even sitting, the boy seemed to strain forward towards the room at the end of the darkened hall, perched at the very edge of the seat. 

"Shippou," began he, shifting his gaze to pin the boy in his place, both literally and figuratively, " You are five hundred years older, and you do not look as you did when she knew you. To go in there now and wake her up to the face of a complete stranger would only scare her. I have no doubts that you intend to charge in there and, well, hug her, blubbering about this and that and so on. There is also the matter that her powers are highly active, and very dangerous to youkai. Even I would not dare to touch her now. I suggest you wait, and plan how you will tell her about this whole affair between the lot of us. She's not going anywhere, boy." The fact that he had touched her and had been zapped was carefully left out of his speech. No need to give the boy an excuse to fly off the handle with his over-protective instincts in full throttle as they were. He had such a clean, orderly kitchen and he wished to keep it that way. 

Strange eyes examined the boy's tense figure, then the lips below them parted for a nearly non-existent sigh. "I had not pegged you for someone to be so stupid. Put that clever nature of yours to use. I will make more tea." 

The chair gave a protesting croak as Sesshoumaru pushed back from the table and got to his feet. As he passed Shippou, he gingerly placed his hand on the shimmering ebony clad shoulder and pushed down forcefully. Shippou sank back down to sit fully, no longer suspended five inches over his seat. 

Practiced ease and time and time again routine lent Sesshoumaru speed in the process of tea making, and as he moved about the kitchen he directed the boy's hectic thoughts on a central issue.

"You told me earlier you were, _ahem_, naughty? Why? What did you go and do that you would end up half dressed in my presence?" The dried tea leaves fluttered into the water, floating on the lucid surface and Sesshoumaru turned up the heat glancing over his shoulder once or twice to see that Shippou now had his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. 

"Yeah. I uh, worked my magic and found out where Kagome lives. I called her mom, disguising myself as one of her friends and told her Kagome was at my house and that I was helping her study for a test that was coming up in a few days. Her mother is an exceptionally understanding woman, I tell you what. Not a question from her aside from the typical 'How long will she be there?" which I just said a few days since we were spending quality time together as well, what with all of the sicknesses Kagome's been having. I remember Kagome telling me once that her grandfather spun far-fetched tales of Kagome's bouts of sudden aliments. Che, go figure eh? How is she, I mean really? What happened to her? Has she said anything about the others or me? Is she-"

"Shippou." The tone was a warning one. Sesshoumaru stirred the pungent mixture with a wooden spoon the soaked leaves secreting their trademark flavor into both the water and air. 

Shippou, twisted in such an angle that would give acrobat headaches, attempted to dig holes in the older youkai's back with his eyes, "Fuck you, you emotionally-constipated-anal-retentive bastard. I've been without her for _five hundred_ bloody _hellish_ years, I think I have a right to ask questions about how she is, so have a heart."  He slumped in his chair with all the fury of a petulant child, crossing his arms over his chest and allowing his head to fall so that his errant bangs overshadowed his turbulent eyes. In so many ways, Sesshoumaru thought, the boy had grown up, but in so many other's he'd stayed as young as he had been so long ago.

Sesshoumaru's glare was far more deadly then arsenic could ever hope to be. He very rarely got angry, or even annoyed to this point, but woe betide the poor sap that bore witness to it. 

"Let us say I had a heart and allowed you to go on ahead full speed without covering your ass, and you were purified right out of your worthless hide. Then what? You have no idea how she may react to you, fool. I'm not concerned with her; it's her power I'm worried over. It's erratic and unpredictable. She's strong, and she's sleeping and has no control over what she is doing as we speak and that makes her all the more dangerous. Now sit down, shut up, stay seated till I give you permission to move and I will answer what questions I can. Are we agreed?" 

 Shippou's slack jaw closed with an audible snap, as though someone had reached under his chin and delivered a swift uppercut. It had been so long, he realized, that he'd forgotten just who Sesshoumaru was. He, in title alone if not in reality, had been born and raised with the iron hand of lordship. Suckled and weaned on nothing but the ways of being a royal, this youkai was in no way shape or form going to tolerate his shit. No doubt all the times before that he'd gotten off Scott free had only been because Sesshoumaru was humoring him. The enlightenment made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

He peeked up at the taiyoukai through a curtain of vibrant red strands, sheepish in his actions.  Sesshoumaru was watching him intently, with an expression in place that defied interpretation, before he regally turned back to the now incredibly mundane task of stirring the tea, one long arm lifting to turn down the heat and then finally switching it off. 

The silence was oddly deafening. Shippou decided to twiddle his thumbs to help pass time, flirting with an idea on how exactly to explain everything to Kagome once she'd woken up. Everything meaning Sesshoumaru. Now there was a tough one. How to explain that the Taiyoukai Sesshoumaru-sama, killer of many, savior of only three so far, now counting Kagome, emotionally frozen and the one that had nearly killed their whole group many times before, had gone and turned over a new leaf, to coin the phrase. 

Hell, it was completely mind-boggling even to him, and he'd experienced the change nearly first hand. It had been started long before he'd been found by Sesshoumaru. The one who'd begun thawing his lord's heart was a little girl named Rin. Shippou had come to know her when she was an older woman, at an age that Kagome had once called mid-forties. It was remarkable really, that such an aged woman had been around Sesshoumaru for so long and it had been clear to him even then that the youkai lord cared for the human woman very much otherwise she'd have been reduced to little more then boneless goo. Shippou had once fancied that the lord was in love with her, but it was apparent there was nothing between those two other then the affection of father and daughter. It was only natural, he figured. A father did not go and fall in love with his daughter unless he had some serious issues. Adoptive or not. 

As it was, Sesshoumaru wasn't such a tight ass anymore, though he was still pretty much the same old "I shall kill you now" as always. There was just something more approachable about the lord now, than there had been when Shippou had been a kit bearing witness to the fight between half-brothers. Well, no not that exactly. But it was there somewhere. Sesshoumaru wasn't a glacier any more, he'd changed a great deal, but mostly in the smallest of ways hat weren't really easy to pinpoint and explain. 

Sesshoumaru was still Sesshoumaru but he wasn't the same Sesshoumaru that Shippou had first crossed paths with. 

"Okay, here's the plan." Shippou started, leaning his elbows on his knees and slapping on a conspirator-like grin, hoping that the end result would work to their favor. His stomach clenched at the prospect that it wouldn't before he forcefully punched it's lights out and threw it to the back corner of his mind along with all the other little voices of failure. 

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Okay, Long in wait for this chapter, and not much happened. I feel like my writing is getting weaker and weaker as I go along. Bah. I don't know. You tell me, Kay? I'll be going on a four day trip, so I'll have plenty of time to plan out the next chapter. I'll be handwriting it so I can start it immediately. 


	9. Chapter Eight: Imaginary

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag… err, well, not quite yet. The two aren't being willing participants. 

Song-fic: Breathing  by Lifehouse. Love that song…

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: The truth comes out, and not in a particularly nice way. We have wounds of five hundred years reopened and the guilt of a pure heart to deal with. To be honest, Sesshoumaru has his work cut out for him. So what he gonna do? Nothing. That's what. Though he really wants to…

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  Head's up, readers. It's raining dreams. I had a lot of time on my hands and as a result I went trigger-happy with my dream gun. Fear my insanity. Now, you all get to see a little peak of what thoughts and images I daydream daily. What fun. You might get a slight case of motion sickness. Also, if you'll notice, I tried to make the whole dream scene seem surreal, to capture the imaginary qualities a dream has. Also, keep the dream in mind. It's a bit of a omen, if you will. 

 I'm trying to make this chapter exceptionally long…well, we'll see if it works. 

And, Trihn thank you very much. ::turns red:: So much praise. I have considered being a writer when I grow up, it's my life dream actually. Be an artist and a writer, like Sesshoumaru here. ^___^. I'm glad you think I'm a great writer, it gives me hope for my future. Thank you again. 

I cant believe I have 92 reviews, and each and every one of them are marvelous. Thank you all. I couldn't say it enough. So here's my way of thanking you in my own small way. A new chapter. With what you've all been waiting for, for the most part anyways.  All right, enough with the sap. Go read. 

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"The waking have one world in common. Sleepers have each a private world of their own." –Unknown.  
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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

____________________________________________  

            Chapter Eight: Imaginary. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

_"__I'm finding my way back to sanity again  
Though I don't really know what I'm gonna do when I get there  
I take a breath and hold on tight  
Spin around one more time  
And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace _

Cause I am hanging on every word you're saying  
Even if you don't wanna speak tonight  
That's alright, alright with me  
Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door  
And listen to you breathing  
Its where I wanna be, yeah  
Where I wanna be

  
I'm looking past the shadows in my mind into the truth  
And I'm trying to identify the voices in my head  
God which ones you?  
Let me feel one more time what if feels like to feel  
And break these calluses off me one more time"  
(Breathing, from Lifehouse.)

Dreaming is the portal to the world of imagination, the window of creativity. It was the route for men and woman who slept their lives away simply for the sake of having a wonderful dream. The world to where anything can happen. Whatever that was, it didn't matter. The rules of reality were null and void here; they didn't hold any power over anything within this world. 

It was a wonderful world, the world of dreams. Could be that this semi-reality is the next giant leap for mankind to achieve. Dreaming while awake. Many went to bed each night, looking forward to the dreams they were sure to have. 

Kagome was in the darker side of the realm. Nightmares. Horrible, nasty things that preyed upon the weakened state of one's heart or mind, feeding upon the base fears that lay there. Kagome had many fears. They came in many forms. 

_~~~Dream/Nightmare Realm~~~_

_Seeing him again, she forgot the past few days and the torment with them. He was there, what else was there to worry about? She was safe because he was protecting her. Her mind screamed out in rage at the horrid amnesia that had stolen away her strength. But her heart was deaf to its desperate cries. Fear Number One: That she would forgive him and forget. Then he'd go and murder her heart again. _

_She smiled, a happy curving of lips that said nothing was wrong with the world. He hadn't seen her yet, but she could try and surprise him. Coming up behind him, her steps so quiet that he had not noticed her, she twined her arms about his torso, silver white strands of his hair falling about her form. _

_He didn't acknowledge her, and she briefly wondered why. Her mind's cries were futile. _

_Her arms still wound about him, the folds of his haori draping over her forearms. It felt real to her. The rough texture of the fire rat hair against the satin of her skin._

_But what did he feel? _

_Not her, at least. He strode forward, stepping through her flesh, bone and blood arms as though they were never there, as though she were a phantom. As though she wasn't _real_. _

Her heart burned, her eyes burned and tears scorched trails over her cheeks. They fell to the ground, something that wasn't there. Just a black abyss that touched her feet and held her up. The tears sizzled once they hit the ebony shadows of the floor, then leapt into flames at her feet. 

_She wasn't aware that her clothes had caught fire, the sinuous flames licking at her flesh, bits of clothing that had become ashes drifting away from her in a jolly little dance. The flames rose higher, at her waist now, curling about her fisted hands that hung limply at her sides. Playing tag about her fingers. _

_  Golden little dancers. Wicked. _

_Her eyes followed his figure, unable to look away. Liquid flames continued to fall from her cheeks, joining their brethren in the dance that burned her clothes, but not her. They danced, cackling. _

_Just ten paces from her burning body, he paused, glancing back for a moment, amber eyes piercing right through her core. He saw right through her to the other side. _

_"Kikyou…where are you?" He whispered, the broken plea falling from his gruff lips, voice unusually gentle. _

_Kikyou? _

_Her eyes darkened, and the tears burned her blind. Within her chest, her heart shattered the shards tearing at her insides, and the flames swirled with rage, boiling out ward, exploding with violent ferocity. She let loose one sob, then covered her lips with both hands, the pain bowing her over. She twisted away from him, and then straitened again, tear tainted eyes back on him. _

_Deep inside, she gave up. Her lips tilted again, in a macabre smile. The tears still ran._

_The flames danced outward, devouring his form that became a photograph. _

Kagome blinked and when she reopened her eyes, she was sitting in her room on the floor flipping through a photo album. Her hand was resting over a picture of Inuyasha, a rare and brief half-smile on his face. She jerked her arm back and away as the edges of the picture slowly blackened and curled in on itself. The edges became ashes and still the black ate away at the picture. Kagome's eyes were pale with shock as she watched the memento of nostalgia burn and smoke curl and twist in a sensuous dance from the picture.  

_Inuyasha was left as nothing more but a scorched fragment of a photograph. _

_She looked up from the charred remains, and out into the forest that Inuyasha had claimed as his own. Around her the flames were no longer golden, but an oddly beautiful silver-blue. Mint filled her lungs, and she relaxed falling backwards heavenly warmth spreading through her veins healing. The earth shattered as her body hit it and she continued to fall, watching the shards of glass float about her._

_Above her, at the lip of the chasm that was now swallowing her, Inuyasha crouched staring down at her blankly. _

_Her smile was desperate, a plea for him to save her. She reached up for him, her fingertips brushing his cheek and his image rippled like water, and then vanished entirely and she was looking at nothing more then the Tetsusaiga. Her delicate fingers wrapped about the hilt and her body gave a jerk, the Tetsusaiga had imbedded itself in something. Velvet folds of cloth spread outwards from the blade and where it disappeared into a sea of red-black._

_ She gasped, chocking on acidic blood as she looked up into the empty, hating eyes of Naraku. Fear curdled in the pit of her gut, as she jackknifed backwards. Her hand on the hilt of the sword was hauled out of his chest where it had sheathed itself in his heart, and she spun away from him, still falling. A ribbon of deep red silk wrapped around her like a lover's touch, the bloody droplets from the swords razor edge circling her as well. The hand that had been in his heart uncurled, and from it floated the Shikon no Tama. Kagome closed her fingers back over the smooth pearl-like jewel. Purified once more, it sank into her skin with a zephyr of light. Ribbon red, dark as blood chilled her skin and flowed around her, blossoming into a thousand more ribbons that shielded her from the evil being whose liquid crimson floated in pearls about her from. _

_He laughed in the demented sort of way that made chills shimmy up her spine, freezing her mind. The dark hanyou began to slag, bits and pieces of his body falling about her, melting and sizzling against her skin before they were destroyed by bolts of silver light that her milky flesh shed. _

_Free falling again, staring at a purple sky she sighed. _

_Detached, she felt separated from her mind, brushing finger tip's with her body and feeling little. Fear had passed her by, fading with Naraku's sadistic cackles. _

_A tragic melody wove into her hair, touching her tear-scarred flesh, cool and soothing. She didn't understand the words or the notes, even as the melody wrapped about her person and tightened, solidifying into steel cords of flesh and bone. Her body was no longer falling, and she was slammed back into her shell with a gentle push. The warmth of cool lips pressed themselves to her forehead; her body curved into his fitting like a broken heart. She felt like crying again at the tender sensation._

_ The body she was held so tightly against moved and breathed, radiating quiet strength and lucid power, chiseled muscles against her skin coiled and relaxing with every gentle sway of rocking motion. White gold strands floated through her vision. And he swayed.  _

_A motion that lulled her. Her tears slowed, stopped burning her. She whispered to him, "Do you love me?" _

_The lips against her brow whispered across the skin there, "Of course I do, you little fool." Rough velvet finger pads traced over her features, drying the scars the tears left, and she felt the skin mend. A thumb brushed the swell of her bottom lip, then was gone. Her skin shivered at the phantom touches, left yearning more.    _

_"Why?" It was an important question; she demanded an answer. She needed to know. She wanted to….she had to… she needed…to… Understand. _

_~~~End Dream~~~_

Kagome's latent body jackknifed, her mind falling into reality with a jarring thud. She sat bolt up right, lips opened as her lungs dragged in gasping gulps of oxygen not unlike a drowning person's reflexive actions as soon as their head broke the surface of water after being depraved of air for a substantial amount of time. The precious element filled her lungs as she slumped forward, her ebony tresses falling to curtain her face. 

Wide slate gray eyes, shut tight once, and then flew open again. 

"That," her throat flashed as she swallowed, "was weird." And she left it at that. Her throat was dry…odd. Or perhaps not, she reached to her neck, feeling her pulse throb under her fingers, the blood rushing through her jugular at a fevered pace, and her fingers came back clammy from the slight sheen of sweat that had formed there. Who was the man in her dream? She ached to be held like that, truly held just like that. As though she was the only thing he needed in the world. Her fingers mimicked the dream finger's path across her skin, her smoky eyes dark and distant. Coming back to herself with a start she shook her head, sending a wave of deep blue ebony fluttering and tumbling over her shoulders. 

Managing to calm her racing heart and heaving breaths, Kagome became aware of the quiet mummer of male voices. Her brows furrowed, straining to pick up the words with her pathetically inept human hearing. 

Unfortunately, the speakers were speaking too quietly for her to actually hear anything more then what she was hearing now. She listened to the drone for a few more seconds, and realized she recognized Hitori's low, husky voice. His voice had a certain warmth to it.  Kagome caught herself relaxing, leaning into the calm timbre – metaphysically speaking of course. It was rather hypnotic, really. Any male singer would kill to be able to have his voice. Briefly, she wondered if her rescuer did that too. Sing, that is. He seemed to be rather versatile. An artist and a writer, and somewhere along the line, an actor. She'd heard somewhere that he'd stared in an American movie. The movie title escaped her at the moment.  As did a lot of things about her host and savior.

He had the voice of a god. Or an Angel. _My angel_, she thought giddily. Her eyes rolled; she was such a moron. The rolling motion stilled as the dark brows over her eyes drew together again in confusion. And who in bloody hell did the other voice belong too? She glanced left to right, pensive. Well, there was one way to find out…

…She really should stay in bed though, injured and all. 

It was a nice bed too. Really comfortable and cozy. Nice. A western bed, even. Not a futon. Funny that she just noticed this little detail. And, waitaminute, were these sheets silk? Her mouth dried with the thought that she was laying in at least a couple thousand yen's worth of sheets. Oh Kami… as far as she knew, the sheets were of real silk. 

But…curiosity was such a tempting thing. She really had no choice, even as she swung her legs out from under the silken sheets, savoring the way they felt against the skin of her legs. The floor was firm under her feet, a solid comfort after that surreal dream-nightmare thing. After a pause to give her feet the chance to get reacquainted to the feeling of solid terra firma, or in this case soft carpeting, she slid her hips forwards off the edge of the bed and stood up carefully. Her side gave a little protest in the form of harsh little throbs, but they were easy to ignore for the most part.

A wave of vertigo hit her, made her sway a moment and her legs tremble with the effort of holding herself up but it passed quickly. She was a little woozy. 

One arm raised, hand to her head as she tottered out of the warm room and into the shadows of the hallway. That same arm fell to her side, resting in slanted protection across her abdomen and the throbbing wound it held. Her fingers curled in the red fabric on which they rested upon for leverage against gravity. The soft carpet that swallowed her toes became hard wood flooring as soon as she moved from the bedchamber to the hall. Her movements were quiet, not even a shuffle of cloth or flesh against carpet. She felt a small prick of pride at being able to move so easily and silently. _Take that, you ass_ she thought smugly. Then had to suppress a hysterical giggle. Nonetheless, that ass's name stayed exiled from her thoughts. 

Kagome's brow lifted at herself. Where had her sanity gone? And her bunny slippers. Those would have been nice, along with some lounge pants. It made her wonder even more about where her decency had gone; she was going to inspect who this mystery visitor was wearing only a dress shirt that was entirely too big for her, and she had no right to go snooping about in Hitori's house. Apartment. Penthouse… whatever it was. 

She checked herself again for decency; found nothing but discovered that the hem of her shirt fell to her knees. Well…it did cover more then her school uniform. Was it really so bad? 

If the other guy was a pervert then she was certain she could still muster up enough spitfire to smack him one. Even if she did feel sort of out of touch with everything around her. It felt like she was still in her dream. The surprising thing was she could still remember it clearly. Everything. 

That wasn't natural was it? Then again, what part of her life had ever been natural? A sardonic lilt of the lips and Kagome was convinced she'd gone loopy. How odd that she was not panicking. Isn't that what you were supposed to do when you find out you were crazy? Insane in the membrane and all that jazz. 

She shook her head certain something was wrong with her. More than just the hole in her stomach, she felt heavy. Leaden to a point that walking was tedious. Actually, she didn't even feel like she was awake…

Ha, that was it, she was awake and dreaming, or sleep walking while dreaming. How strange… She erased that thought. Last time she'd thought that she'd had stainless steel thrust into her flesh rather rudely. Never again. 

Right then. How completely odd. That's better. Though with her luck she might just end up with a spear jutted between her eyes. _Gahh, bad thought Kagome. Just drop it. ….I need help. Maybe Hitori's a shrink or something. Wouldn't put it past him. _

What in bloody hell was wrong with her, anyways? She should have stayed in bed. 

Should've, would've, could've, didn't. No use saying should have now; it was nothing more then a waste. The two voices became more imbued with clarity as she pressed her form against the wall the closer she got to what was the kitchen. Her nose tingled with the welcome aroma of tea and she became more aware of how thirsty she was. Her mouth was parched, throat as arid as a desert at midday. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she snuck closer, still conforming her frame to the cool solidity of the wall. 

It was odd that there were no picture frames to distract her from her path, nothing of a family life to show guests. Kagome found herself wondering about Hitori. Why would a man such as he not have at least one picture of his mother? Or father even? Why not a family portrait? Or a picture of the family playing at the beach? Why not a little Hitori frolicking in the sand? 

Hitori- his name meant lonely. Was it his true name or just a pseudonym? Lonely… Was he an orphan? No family and no pictures on the wall. Her heart ached for him then. It ached for him even more if he did have a family for something horrible must have happened in his life that he'd hide away memories of his past. Something horrible to make him ostracize his own flesh and blood.

Even in the sanctity of his bedroom there had been nothing to say of his past. Merely those paintings broken in their solitude. She recalled how each one seemed more melancholy then joyful. _What a sad man_, she though her heart empathetic for him. 

So caught up in the tangles of her compassion, she hardly noticed that she'd stumbled away from her cover and into the light of the kitchen that adjoined with a living room and a door that lead to somewhere else. 

Two separate pairs of  differently green hued orbs alighted on her figure, one merely concerned the other wide with shock and relief and years of something else behind them. Hitori rose to his feet, setting his cup of tea back on the table with a little clatter. He was tall, she realized. Exceptionally tall. It would be awkward if someone as short as she were to try and kiss him.  

"Kagome?" The voice of her savior sounded curious. 

Startled so badly she nearly fell back wards, Kagome gave a small mewl of pain as she felt the bandages pull across her injury. Her hand caught the corner of the wall and held her upright long enough for Hitori to move his arm around her torso gently giving her much needed support. She clung to him instead, heart pounding from it's scare. 

A look of meaning was shot over her head at the other fiery-like man, which she missed seeing completely. The other man stood up and scraped a chair backwards for her to sit on. Hitori half-walked, half-carried her over there, patient with her timid steps. 

The arm that was not around her somehow managed to procure a blanket from somewhere and drape it about her shoulders. Obviously, even if she wasn't thinking about her decency, someone else was. She made a note to heartily thank him later. 

"Would you like some tea?" He inquired, footing the chair out of his way as her took her into the kitchen itself and two hands clasped her slim waist, lifting her up effortlessly and setting her on the counter. She blinked at him, her hands still on his shoulders from where they'd landed in her surprise as he'd lifted her. 

In the background, Shippou grinned like a maniac, watching the scene. Oh, ho ho, this was sooo rich. He quickly wiped all expression from his face when 'Hitori' gave him the evil eye complete with condescending frown and lifted eyebrow before he let Kagome go and went to the teapot. His adoptive mother watching the tall form of the pale writer with a sort of wonder in her eyes.

Kagome watched Hitori's back as he worked, her peach pale cheeks rouge with a blush. He was a weird guy; she'd give him that. 

Speaking of guys, she remembered as she turned away from her appraisal of the young artists frame, there was one sitting at the table and just staring at her like he knew who she was… without her consent, he walked up to her- more like swaggered really- and took her hand. A weird sense of déjà vu rolled in her gut, and she was reminded of Miroku. 

"You're not going to ask me something weird are you? Like 'Will you do me the honor of bearing my child?' Because the answer is no." Her words were quiet, but frank, yet gentle. Only Kagome, he thought, could pull of a tone like that. 

The fire-haired man laughed, his dry, warm hands tightening around her own. " And be like Miroku? No thanks, you'd only slap me." And then suddenly a look of horror descended on his roguish features. He went a pallid white, the coloring of a corpse well into rigor mortis. His eyes were a stark emerald hue against his sudden white skin, making them seem like true gems.

 Kagome paled, wide gray eyes locked on him with a frigid intensity. Instinct made him draw back and away, way away. He ended up on the other side of the kitchen, the curdling sense of screwing up damning him. A shaking hand ran through his hair, and he dared a look at her. She was shaking worse then he was, like he'd just stabbed her in some way. Oh Gods…

Sesshoumaru wanted very much to utilize his spatula on the runt's hard head. Instead he settled for leveling the boy with a look worthy of turning Medusa and her gorgon sisters into a quivering mass of fear and submission. Whole armies of war hardened samurai would have dropped their weapons, turned tail and ran screaming bloody murder for the hills. Even the Spartans would have pissed their pleated war kilts and tried to turn into ooze and sink into the earth. 

Shippou settled for sitting down hard, feeling that he was missing a very important part of his bone structure. His spine.  Kagome's penetrating gaze continued to bore a tunnel big enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through his head. He shivered, feeling very chilled, his stomach cramping with nausea. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, moron, idiot, twit, senseless pup…You're overreacting, come on, straiten yourself out and pull it together, this hasn't gone to hell yet…._ His mental cheerleading was cut in half by her sweet voice speaking words that made his blood slow to a trickle.

"Who…_are_ you?" She breathed, but in the silence that had swallowed the room, her voice was shattering. Seconds crawled by on their bellies, trying their damndest not to be noticed. After a long, tense and pregnant silence, Shippou lifted his head from his hands and braved a weak smile at her. It was received, but not returned.  There was just an empty look in her eyes now. And tears shimmered upon her cheeks. His smile died a painful death, wavering on his lips and then falling away limply.

Sesshoumaru decided that he should quietly fade into the wallpaper, and let the little soap opera run its turbulent course. Though something in him crystallized when he saw her shed tears again. He turned away, contenting himself forcibly to look out the window and tried to forget those salty droplets tracing the curves of her cheeks. The move didn't help. The tangy scent of them still reached him, haunted him, jeered at him. 

" Long time, no see, Kagome. It's me….Shippou." Gine was the vivacious youth and in it's place was the haggard man in Shippou's skin, looking out at the girl with tired eyes that had seen many years of lonely hurt, and the toughened spirit glimmered through.

The knife in her heart twisted, and guilt bubbled from the wound, black as ink and bitter as her tears. Right then and there, she broke. A sob escaped her lips, "N-no. You can't be…I…oh Kami… You….How can you…do this to me?" The sobs broke into her speech, but she got the knives of her words out of her, cutting her throat in the process. 

The self-proclaimed Shippou recoiled from her as though she'd decked him. Regret filtered through her at her harsh words, but what was she to do? How was she to face this? Denial was her defense mechanism against the sudden guilt.  

Sesshoumaru sighed, completely disgusted with the god-forsaken mess that had just dumped itself in his lap. And with himself for wishing nothing more then to go over there and protect the fragile creature sitting on his counter from the heart ache he detected in her tears. But how could he possibly shield her from her own pained heart?  

_  
"Cause I am hanging on every word you're saying  
Even if you don't wanna speak tonight  
That's alright, alright with me  
Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside of your door  
And listen to you breathing  
Its where I wanna be, yeah  
  
Oh I don't want a thing from you  
Bet you're tired of me waiting for  
The scraps to fall off of your table to the ground  
La da da da...  
Cause I just wanna be here now  
  
Cause I am hanging on every word you're saying  
Even if you don't wanna speak tonight  
That's alright, alright with me  
Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door  
And listen to you breathing  
Its where I wanna be, yeah  
Where I wanna be  
  
Cause I am hanging on every word you're saying  
Even if you don't wanna speak tonight  
That's alright, alright with me  
Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door  
And listen to you breathing  
Its where I wanna be, yeah  
Where I wanna be"_

_(Breathing, from Lifehouse.)_

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 


	10. Chapter Nine: Reconciliation Under Press...

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag… err, well, not quite yet. The two aren't being willing participants. Though, Sesshy seems interested.

Song-fic: Under Pressure by Queen staring David Bowie. Happy me, happy me.

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Kagome believes Shippou, and things get just peachy keen from there. Then of course, Shippou starts to get all Cupid-y, obviously having read way too much 'Matchmaker One-on-One' in his life. And what is in Sesshoumaru's pretty head? Let's find out, shall we?

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  So, let's recap shall we? Denial is most likely not some river in Egypt…and for some odd reason, probably  because I just wanted to play up the drama since I'm such a Drama Queen… but that is irrelevant. As I was saying, Kagome's a pretty doubtful thing no? Oh well, we'll deal with _that_ in this chapter… 

Anyways…Beware the tears…and sap…and drama…and, well, you get the idea.

And I was watching Mimic which is by the way a cool movie even if there are some scenes that will make even the toughest of stomachs heave. Mine heaved. And I have a very strong constitution. But yeah, good Movie. Just felt like sharing that with you. And I stayed up all night, and I'm feeling very queasy…in a good way. Hyper, hyper, hyper me. Yup. I chose the song Under Pressure since it fit this chapter well, and it can conform to whatever way you want to take it. Pay attention to the lyrics and you'll see what I mean.

All right, matter of Important Business. Eden, yes I mean you. You have a prize to pick up. Since you were the one to guess the closest as to why Sesshou's beastie sword was acting up you get a one-shot from me. Any pairing you wish, any genre, any rating and so on. Anytime you want it. Tell me what you want in a review or something of the like. 

___________________________  
  


"Nothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child's loss of a doll and a king's loss of a crown are events of the same size…"

-Mark Twain. 

____________

Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

____________________________________________  

                Chapter Nine: Reconciliation. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

"Pressure, pushing down an me 

_Pressing down on you no man asked for_

_Under pressure_

_That burns a building down_

_Splits a family in two_

_Puts people on the streets_

_Bah bah bah bah bah bah_

_Bah bah bah bah bah bah_

_That's okay! _

_It's the terror of knowing _

_What this world is about_

_Watching some good friends _

_Screaming 'let me out1'_

_Pray tomorrow takes me higher_

_Pressure on People_

_People on streets_

_Do do do bah bah bah bah_

_Okay_

_Chippin' around_

_Kick my brains round the floor_

_These are the days_

_It never rains but it pours_

_People on streets_

_People on streets" _

 Sometimes strange things happen, things so abnormal your first reaction is to spurn it, to not believe it. It's just too strange to truly wrap your mind around. This is like truth in a way. First it is violently opposed, then it is ignored.  And finally it is accepted as self-evident. From there it is just a matter of the person. What they will do once they've assimilated the knowledge is up to them. Whether they ignore it entirely or do something about it is their decision alone. No one can sway their minds on the matter. 

Having someone you'd thought you'd left in the past- in another time- suddenly thrust upon you again after having something horrible happen to you, like say you're heart broken by someone you trusted unconditionally, or when seeking peace and comfort in the sanctity of a park only to have a breach of another kind of trust happen to you... Well, one is inclined to be uncertain of anything. 

Kagome was a trusting creature simply by nature and how she was raised. She was not a normal individual even before she was encased in the arms of a caterpillar-youkai and hauled backwards in time five hundred years. From there on, weird things had seemed to become the norm. She'd fought youkai, beings with the first natural instinct that humans were food and lesser species. She'd faced their evils, knew them for what they were and accepted that as a Miko it was her lot in life to eradicate the threat to her kind and to protect the Shikon no Tama that had been sheltered within her body. 

It was there in the past that she fell in love, and it was there in the past that her heart was slayed by the very person it had loved. That was one type of betrayal. 

It was only natural that she sought the healing of her own time, among her family where she was known only as Kagome, beloved daughter and devoted sister. Not the reincarnation of a Miko that now walked the earth of the past dead but alive, a perverse abomination to all things holy. 

This was her betrayal of her friends, abandoning them though the pain brought a slight touch of insanity to her. She promised to go back. 

She trusted humanity, though she knew there were sickos out there. But to have a human being attack her out of a sadistic habit? This was a betrayal of her trust. Though she knew humans were capable of killing, she just never knew that it could happen to her. 

She had been stabbed. And she was unable to do anything to stop it; her miko powers did not warn her of the threat and could not protect her from it. Kagome felt useless because of that. 

But, to have the kit that you had betrayed suddenly in her time, in the same room with her….

Kagome crumpled, prisms of light catching orbs dropping from her chin to suicidal shatters against her shirt and the tile floor of the kitchen she was in. She couldn't believe him, there was no way. How could he be alive? How could he be here in the same room with her? How could he still love her after she'd abandoned him?

It's not possible, some distant monitor at the back of her mind babbled, I'm dreaming. He's not really Shippou.. can't be. I'm dreaming, that's it. Simple. This is a dream and I am going to wake up. Oh Kami. Time to wake up.

But another part of her the majority wanted for the man sitting so dejectedly before her to be who he claimed to be. She wanted it to be him so _badly_, it burned in her wounded heart. Felt that it would alleviate most of her guilt and this made her feel even worse, for being so selfish. Her eyes searched his, even as she reached out with her fledgling powers and tried to read who he was. It was an instinctual action on her part.

"Prove it," She said through her teeth, eyelashes fluttering against the blurring of her vision, "Please."

The young man finally truly smiled, a hopeful flash of teeth before he lifted up one hand that she now saw held a single reddish-green leaf. Small and insignificant, he'd been able to hide it from her as it was easily concealed within the curl of his fingers against the palm. At first nothing happened, but in the next instant a deep red tail, bushy and tipped with coal, suddenly melted into existence curling around his waist as though it had been there the entire span of time she'd been staring at him. The black tip twitched once; twice then he put the leaf down on the table and looked up at her, expectantly. Awaiting her judgment.

The sudden appearance of his tail made her gasp, left her staring slack jawed at him. Or more specifically at his tail. 

He fiddled with the leaf again, for a moment, looked back up at her, and his jaw began to work out the words he needed to free, " I…I guess you still aren't sure? All right. Let me try something else. Do you remember when we first met? And you were abducted by the Thunder Brothers? Do you remember the last battle between Inuyasha and Hiten? I had to transform into a bow so that you could shoot an arrow…" he paused to take a breath, and the girl on the counter fought to keep calm. But with each word he spoke, she found herself knowing that he was in fact Shippou. No one had the same vibe's as her little kit, even aged as they were, nor would they have been able to know so much about their escapades. She listened  on, leaning forward on her perch, slowly sliding off the veneer and toward him.

"…And then when Inuyasha had thought you and I were dead and mistook the column of my father's fox fire that had saved us to be the 'Light of the Afterlife' so to speak and Miyouga had said behold yadda yadda yadda or something like that… Or the time that we had to fight Sesshoumaru? It was just about after that that the pervert Miroku came along, and he had been poisoned when he had tried to use his Kazaana. Like the typical Miroku he played on his weakness and said that he wasn't able to take the anti-venom you'd brought so you'd have to give it to him mouth to mouth so you made me try and give it to him? Or when-" 

He was cut off by Kagome's arms wrapping around him with enough strength to break several of a normal man's ribs. The chair he was sitting on rocked back from the force of her momentum as she hit him before righting itself. Without a thought he returned the favor, encasing her in his own, stronger arms gently, but tightly. Holding her close. So very close, as though she were just a dream thought would fade away.

She whimpered her 'sorry's' into his shoulder, more or less curled on his lap, most of her body settled on his legs while one pale leg was left to hang overboard. But he didn't care. He had his mother back.

 The fear that she'd reject his truth was obliterated by the warmth of her embrace. Five hundred years were erased from his mind and he was just a kit again, holding onto his mother after an especially terrifying nightmare had invaded his sleep and chased him from his bed. The only thing was- his mother wasn't whispering comforts and little nothings of safety to him, it was he that was comforting her, but he, nonetheless, enjoyed the change of roles. He felt useful for once. 

One hand rubbed warm circles into her back while the other smoothed her tousled raven tresses lovingly. 

"I'm so sorry I didn't believe you." She shivered against him, her thin arms tightening before she drew back to look at him.

 He offered her a confidant smile, "Hey, none of that. I probably would have shouted at myself then kicked myself out of my personal space if I tried to tell me I was …You know what_? It's all right. I forgive you_."

Those last words dropped to her ears like pearls, made her want to cry even harder, her heart nearly bursting with her relief.

Shippou pulled her back to him, not ready to let go just yet, even if the world depended on it. As far as he was concerned, said world could go jump off a nice, huge cliff. He had what he wanted and that was that. Period. End of Story. Fuck the World. Next Case. 

Cloud nine could eat its fluffy little heart out. Speaking of Fluffy, Shippou shot a glance over Kagome's head at the silent taiyoukai suddenly fearing that he was choking to death from all the 'touch feely' emotions flying about helter-skelter. Sesshoumaru was never one to sit through a sob fest, at least not without doing something radical. Like say…beheading the sobbing morons, or something else of that sort. Violent. Bloody. The more the better. 

Sesshoumaru had planted himself like an immoveable stature, back to them as he stared out the window at the city that flowed with frantic life below them. Completely at ease, but at the same time his stance betrayed his tense muscles. 

Shippou tilted his head to the side a moment, wondering what had possibly caused the youkai lord to turn to Frosty the Snow-dog. But then, Shippou could never really read what lay behind the mask with that one. All he had was his guessing ability, and it came up short when it came to puzzling out Sesshoumaru. Even after five centuries he was no closer to understanding the Taiyoukai, even for all his knowledge on his habits. 

Hmmm…well, there was also that meager matter of revealing Hitori as Sesshoumaru. How to go about that one, Shippou hadn't the faintest. Besides, he figured any plan he hatched up would be blown out of the water by the tearful little thing hugging the ever-loving-fool out of him right now, just like his little plan to tell her who he was. No, better to just fly by the seat of his pants and if things went wrong then he could hide from most of the spitfire Kagome would be sure to let fly. 

Then again, he never knew with her either. She was a strange little contradiction. For all he knew she'd just smile and take Sesshoumaru's little secret in stride or she would be wary of the beast for a bit then loosen up. That was the wonderful thing about her; Kagome was a trusting sort. She couldn't hate anybody, her heart wasn't made for it. Rather, she loved nearly everyone she came across. Sure there was the Miko-bitch Kikyou and Shippou was _certain_ Kagome did not trust her, nor did she really like her, but he didn't think for one moment Kagome harbored any hate for the dead bag of bones. Now Naraku may have been the only creature alive that Kagome hated, but that hate was more or less out of love for her friends and her compassion for them. Anyone who hurts her friends or loved ones was just asking for a holy whooping into chapter twelve of the Whoop Ass book. He liked that about Kagome. She didn't take shit from anyone lying down. 

He grinned, hugging her tighter to himself before letting her go. She stepped away from him, not exactly willingly but nonetheless allowed him his space.

Shippou put away his leaf and his tail was hidden away by his illusion once more while Kagome wrapped the blanket about her waist like a wrap-around skirt, trying to reclaim her decency. There was a moment of awkward silence as each of them tried to figure out what to do next and how exactly to go about doing it. Shippou had a store-house of things he wanted to tell her about. Kagome still felt the guilty pressure on her chest but it was far more tolerable now. But, Kami, Shippou was here in her time…it was unbelievable, inconceivable to her. 

Sesshoumaru had seen everything in the reflection on the glass of the window and was rather relieved the soap opera had come to an end. Hopefully there would not be an encore. If that were to happen, he most likely would fling Shippou right out of afore mentioned window with nary a second thought. Time for tea. Again. He spun elegantly away from the window, easily slipping with quiet steps across the tiled floor to the cabinet to get a cup for Kagome's tea that he had offered to her before the sob fest had begun.

 Watching the two askance as they proceeded to fidget and squirm, he stifled the urge to snort. Obviously each had something on his or her mind they wanted to share yet didn't know how precisely to go about doing it. He shot a pointed look at the kitsune, strange eyes driving home the slight matter that was left now. However, Shippou was far from home. The message was left unheard. Either way…

_Hitori had to get lost, so that this Sesshoumaru can come out and play_, he thought, not just a little sarcastically nearly giving his eyes a roll. Though it really didn't matter to him up or down. He'd have rather enjoyed the game longer and he wished to know how long it would take the girl to realize that he was in fact Sesshoumaru and not some human artist and writer. 

She'd known who he was before after she'd been introduced on a rather intimate level with a common kitchen knife. Their eyes had connected and he knew she knew who he was. Even in that one heartbeat of time, she'd seen _him_. Whether or not she was able to remember was another matter. From the expression on her face and the way she'd slackened near boneless in the bum's hold had denoted that she was already half past fainting. Therefore it was safe to assume that the memory was tucked away in the far reaches of her mind, barely there wiped away by unconscious's black touch 

He also knew, via small peeks into her thoughts that she'd in a strange moment of dizziness had seem who he truly was. Just a moment of a flicker, then it had fled. On some level she was well aware of who he was. 

She just didn't realize it yet. 

So, Sesshoumaru, being the odd sort that he was, made his decision. Neither he nor Shippou would remove the mask of Hitori just yet. Curiosity was a strong trait within him, and at the moment it demanded nothing more then to have Kagome herself figure his identity out. If she was as intelligent as he perceived her to be then he would not be disappointed. 

Till then, he would remain as Hitori and he'd continue with his own private agenda. Solve the mystery those smoky gray blue eyes so jealously guarded, and rid himself of his fascination with her in the same fell swoop. Or, and this was just now becoming a novel thought, claim her as his own and keep her around simply for his amusement. 

She was an interesting little thing really, a spitfire in his memories yet here in the present a trusting yet lost creature. It seemed that without the driving force of her loyalty and, even more disgusting, love for his halfling partial blooded brother had left her stranded on a small isle amongst the tide of her tears. 

Apparently, even some of the strongest could buckle under the weight of their love. It had been his father's downfall, his mother's as well. Therein lay his reason to regard the perverse emotion with great caution and distrust. 

His gaze shifted to the woman-child standing swaddled in a bundle of clothe, barefooted on his faux marble floor and settled there upon her in intent appraisal. The way she stood, the flow of her back bone, the curving of the shirt's material over certain parts of her anatomy and the gentle sweep of her creamy-pale neck…somehow even dressed as she was, she seemed most alluring. Innocent and untouched, he knew. Make that greatly alluring. Little wonder why that wolf-twit Kouga had been so smitten with this creature before him. While she may not have been beautiful there was just a certain charm to her, a spark that captivated even he. Perhaps it was an inner glow or some such nonsense that caused her to become something of a goddess.

He felt that familiar twinge of inspiration and quite nearly cursed. Damned bloody timing it had. Inner light indeed. As long as Shippou was here, there was no way that his studio door was going to be unlocked. The kit was a nosy chit and what with his magical talent, Sesshoumaru was hard pressed to keep anything he wished to remain a secret just that. Gladly, his magic was vastly stronger then the kit's and he had more know how in that area otherwise…Well, there'd be no peace from the boy if he did find about his newest obsession. Thus the door would stay locked. 

 Content with that, he went about pouring her tea and refilling his own cup while he was at it with movements that were quick and proficient. None of them were wasted.

Shippou suddenly remembered that there was another in the vicinity when the Sesshoumaru statue came to life and began moving. Keeping a poker face on, he watched the taiyoukai out of the corner of his eye. Watched as the taller male allowed himself to look at Kagome a moment before going back to his tea duty. In that small moment, Shippou saw something flash through those odd green-gold eyes. Intrigue and a small dose of something deeper. Something Kagome had often watched Inuyasha with, steady in her gaze.

Though his outer visage showed no signs of it, inside he was rubbing his hands together in glee positively _gleeful_ with this sudden turn of events. So, Sesshoumaru had some 'platonic' emotions for the girl. He either didn't realize it, or knowing him, knew what it was but was trying to find a way to get rid of it. Honestly, Shippou didn't know whether to laugh at him or pity the guy. Emotion's couldn't be stopped, couldn't be bottled up and thrown away. They could be weakened, yes, but then there'd always be stray tendrils of them left over in wait for you to fall into them once more. Obviously, Sesshoumaru hadn't been made privy to the matters of the heart. There was little surprise there. Sesshoumaru's heart was so unused that, even after Rin, the frost hadn't been totally cleared from it. 

But maybe, just maybe, Kagome would be the warmth that was needed to thaw out his chest cavity. Perhaps, Sesshoumaru was just the guy needed to cool and soothe the flames of Kagome's own heart. 

He glanced between them, awed in spite of himself. They were the other's balance, and they evened out perfectly. Night and day, yin and yang, Fire and Ice, her trust and his wary nature. Talk about the possibilities. And imagine what the offspring would look like.

Shippou nodded to himself, and set his mind to the task he was about to under take. After all, one didn't just go off and start fucking around with Cupid's arrows without a good plan or an attack strategy. Oh, and escape tactics. Mustn't forget that. Wouldn't want to be skinned alive, now would he? Somehow, the mental image of his pelt on Sesshoumaru's floor (not unlike a rug) failed to appeal to him. 

It didn't seem to him that Sesshoumaru was going to give Kagome his true identity, so Shippou figured he wouldn't either. Besides, if Kagome fell in love with Hitori then when he was unmasked would she not still love him, questionable past tendencies and all? Shippou had learned to care for the taiyoukai, so why not love from Kagome?

Shippou resisted the urge to sigh; he had his work cut out for him… 

While Shippou schemed, Kagome had wiped away the last salty droplets feling the sticky sensation of her drying cheeks, suddenly much lighter then she'd been before. The weight of what could very well have been the world had vanished from her shoulders and giving her lings the freedom to breathe without restrictions and her spine to relax from it's bowed position. Relief washed through her in cool waves. 

 Her mind rippled over the new made memories of what had just transpired and she couldn't help but shake her head in wonder. It had all happened so swiftly. 

How was she to look upon this? In the last seventy-two hours, Kagome had made the hardest decision in her young, tender life. Ripping her heart from her chest then leaving her second family to recoup in her rightful time… all that had left her with a rent in her chest that she thought would never close. Then, she'd been brutally attacked by what could be considered the true filth of human kind, a sadistic predator out for blood. Only to have what was most likely the angel of man kind, a complete stranger had deemed her life worthy to save from Death's hold for she would have surely died then and there, alone in that abandoned section of the park. And finally, her strange savior was a friend of someone she'd though she'd left behind. 

She felt dazed, a little light headed. There was something else, she knew, something important. Something that had happened in the park. But why couldn't she remember. Her heart felt she should, but each time her mind reached for the tiny threads that she was sure lead to the truth they wisped out of her reach, curled about her mind teasingly, and were gone. It was frustrating to say the least. 

Finally, her lightheadedness got the better of her as she felt gravity press down on her chest, rocking her forward before reflexes shifted her back to standing strait.  Warm blue-gray eyes squinted, still a tad clouded with thoughts. She put an arm out to steady herself, hand meeting the counter behind her and gripping its edge. What was she forgetting? 

What?

Sesshoumaru's liquid green-gold orbs tracked the slight movement and his head swiveled to inspect the source. Kagome, even with her hand lending extra support to her swaying from could not fight the effects of what he recognized as blood loss. He should have known better then to allow her to stand for so long; her body required rest to regain its life fluid. The tea cups twinkled merrily as he set them down on the counter, his body already moving towards her willowy frame. 

Her eyes were distant, a dull sheen cast over them turning them into a misty blue-gray. Coal lashes fluttered like the wings of a broken butterfly, before they shut completely hiding those dazed eyes, her body swaying once again. 

His astute observation was: "You should be in bed, Kagome-san." 

 The girl had little time to react as he'd already swooped down upon her, scooping her slim body into his arms and starting down the dimly lit passage that lead to his room. Her arms had wound themselves about his neck in her startled surprise as she was held aloft. She didn't notice how the action further pressed her soft curves against him, molding the pliant flesh to solid plains of sleek muscle. He did. 

"Wait, I can handle it. I'm not weak or anything, I'm okay." She protested, eyes wide with the conviction that she was indeed fine. 

He nearly snorted, but settled for a sardonic twist of the lips. "Liar. And whoever said that you were weak? I am merely reinforcing your body's need for rest. Yet you seem so intent on ignoring it."

She glared at him, eyes spitting fire. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

The muscles in her arms coiled further, he felt it beneath the shirt's woven clothe. Perhaps she entertained the thought of throttling him. 

He said, "It means that I am taking you back to bed, and you will stay there. End of discussion. I shall bring you some tea and a bit of breakfast later." The doorway was a golden halo of light ahead of him, even as the death rays in her eyes dug into his flesh. 

Once again, Kagome found the proverbial rug hauled out from under her conversational feet at the sudden change of subject and wondered how he was able to unbalance her so quickly and easily. It was almost unnerving. _He_ was almost unnerving. Yet, there was something about him that made her put faith in him. She didn't think it had much to do with him saving her life. Anyone can save a person's life. No, it was something else. A feeling or some other instinct that had her figuratively reaching out to him, letting her trust in him, not fully but enough that she wasn't screaming her lungs out in his arms. Perhaps this was what had her so uneasy. 

Neither noticed the impish grin on a certain Kitsune's face. Or even the little happy squirm he performed, apparently trying to do a jig while still seated and not gain any attention to his odd antics. He watched the spectacle as it was carried on down the hall before both figures were devoured by the light their little spat still tickling his ears. _My job may not be as hard I had originally thought after all. _

"It's the terror of knowing 

_What this world is about_

_Watching some good friends_

_Screaming 'let me out!'_

_Pray tomorrow takes me higher higher higher_

_Pressure on people_

_People on streets_

_Turned away from it all_

_Like a blind man_

_Sat on a fence but it don't work_

_Keep coming up with love_

_But it's so slashed and torn_

_Why why why?_

_Love love love love_

_Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking_

_Can't we give ourselves one more chance?_
    
    _Why can't we give love that one more chance?_
    
    _Why can't we give love give love give love?_
    
    _Give love give love give love give love give love?_
    
    _Cause love's such an old fashioned word_
    
    _And love dares you to care_
    
    _For people on the edge of the night_
    
    _And love dares you to change our way_
    
    _Of caring about ourselves_
    
    _This is our last dance_
    
    _This is our last dance_
    
    _This is ourselves under pressure_
    
    _Under pressure pressure." _
    
    _Under Pressure – Queen and David Bowie._

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	11. Chapter Ten: A Little Less Enthusiasm, P...

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag… err, well, not quite yet. The two aren't being willing participants. Though, Sesshy seems interested.

Song-fic: Heh. No, not this one.

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: Kagome goes and hurts herself again, Sesshoumaru cleans up the mess and Shippou's boat is shot right out of the water. So much for big plans.

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  Ack! Kill me with a brick, but this chapter was a stubborn one. I hit a bit of a rut with it. Bah, that and I was thinking up new stories _and_ I'm going to start an AU Sess/Kag one shot. A long one. Or maybe a chapter story. But I like what I've started on it. It's in my head. When your reading this chapter you'll notice that Sesshoumaru has a burst of inspiration and creates a tale in his mind. It's a lot like what I am able to do. So there's my mentality for you. I'll let you all know when I'm going to post the new story.  I was working on it at the same time I'm working on this chapter so that's another reason why it took so long.  I've said it before and I'll say it again. Inspiration is a bloody fickle little wanker. And god, this chapter sucks like whoa. ::buries herself in complete shame:: And so short…Ugh.

. 

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Do not meddle in the affairs of Demon Lords, for you are crunchy and taste splendid with A1 steak sauce. - ::coughs:: SilverQuick. 

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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

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            Chapter Ten: A Little Less Enthusiasm, Please. 

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Once long ago, Sesshoumaru had wanted to kill the fragile creature in his arms. In fact, had you even given word to him that he'd one day be holding her against his heart it would have disgusted him to no end before he went all Kung Fu on your sorry excuse for an existence.  

Now, he wished nothing more then to figure her out, solve her mystery then perhaps claim her. Maybe. But, he knew he would never be able to own her. She was too fierce in her sense of self to allow anyone to _own_ her. Perhaps if it was a mutual affair then maybe…

Then again, there was a saying: Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me. Perhaps the one fooling her had been love, but nonetheless, he doubted she'd allow herself to play the fool a second time.

He knew that was why she left the hanyou. From what little he'd gleaned from Shippou and his own observations of her he figured she was in love with the mutt but the foolish prick was too busy playing the love struck pup(pun intended) to a necrophiliac to notice the love she offered him. It must have driven her insane to know she was worth less than dirt in his eyes, again, pun intended.  Probably disgusted her as well, so she left him. A wise decision in Sesshoumaru's eyes. Clever girl. Five hundred years ago he would have killed that thought on sight. Three hundred would have left him with a funny taste in his mouth. One hundred and he'd have been amused. 

However, now…

The oddly familiar weight of the girl against his chest and in his hold was a marvel too him. Said weight was barely even there, she was so very light he felt little resistance. That she trusted him too was a novel thing to him. Rarely had anyone ever trusted him. Barely even a handful and one of them had passed away long ago. Perhaps that was part of it. This Kagome brought to him memories of Rin; she reminded him of his young human ward a great deal. The fearless, cheerful, and wild lust for life. Even hidden by a heart's pain as it was he could still sense it deep inside of this frail creature. 

He snorted when she poked him with her elbow as she crossed her arms over her chest gingerly careful of her belly, muttering something about pompous wind-bags who think they owned the world simply because they wrote a few books and such. Now that his train of thought had crashed and all…

 Those amazing blue orbs flashed their irritation at him, before she jabbed him again, "Put me down. I am not a cripple you know."

Another snort, "Indeed." 

Jab. He nearly winced at the force of it. She was going to hurt herself if she kept that up. He'd only end up with a little red area and then it be gone in a matter of seconds. As it was, the action was still irritating. 

" I want to walk the rest of the way at least. Nothing will happen." For some strange reason she pouted. And for an even _stranger_ reason, Sesshoumaru found himself oddly enchanted by the curve of plump pastel flesh she was presenting him. How oddly tempting. 

Finally, the stream of sunlight reached out to them and engulfed them, causing both of their pupils to dilate in quick response to the abrupt brightness compared to the shadows they'd just walked through. 

Sesshoumaru eyed the rumpled sheets of the bed and gauged the distance between him and the piece of furniture. It was a short enough; she could handle it. 

"Very well," he muttered, resigned, and let her legs swing from right his arm so that she was standing, his other arm behind her back in order to support her should she fall.  On the other hand, he was more then positive that she'd be damned if she was going to even so much as stumble in front of him. _Prideful little thing_, he mused as she tottered towards the bed in baby-like steps, arms slightly lifted from her sides to keep the delicate balance of her vertical weight. Her back remained ram-rod straight however. How admirable. 

It was odd also, the way she moved. Like a prima ballerina: all flowing motions and dance-like steps. He'd noticed that when he first met her. Now however; Prima ballerina with one too many tequila shot's in her system was more suited to her. What would happen if he put her on a balance beam and told her to walk it? 

His lips twitched, amused by the vivid mental image his imagination had conjured. Her walking then falling right into his waiting arms… Inspiration took the idea and ran with it, swiftly creating a plotline to it, and then creating characters. Since he was a morbid author it supplied a horror touch to it, something of a dark tale with a lacing of love. A mystery. Fantasy and Sci-fi intertwined in his mind, dancing into the story line perfectly. The whole process was only so long and now all that was left to do was write it and bring the characters to life in the pages of a crisp, musky book. 

Sesshoumaru smirked again, filing this new tale away on the back burner allowing it to age like a fine wine. It would most likely be his next best seller. But then, weren't they all? _Vanity_, a little voice cautioned. _Watch it_. 

The sore ache of her side was enough to make her wince. It felt like nothing more then a certain pain during those lovely few days every woman has monthly, only quite a sum stronger. And a little higher. But who wanted to get technical? She didn't. It hurt and that was that. 

Hobbling over to the bed, carefully, she kept her chin up parallel to the floor quite aware of the burning sensation of Hitori's eyes against her back. Oh how she wanted to turn around and smirk at him in such a way that said 'Look Ma, no helping hands or anything.' But just knew that is she did her luck (what with it's sick twisted humor) would just up and keel over on her and she'd end up flat on her face. 

No thanks, she chose baby steps. Much better then rug burn on her nose and cheeks any day. Hitori would most likely be gentlemanly and congenial about it, polite and helpful; he would help her to her feet. But the niggling thought that he was laughing his arse off on the inside would make her all huffy and such. It wouldn't be pretty. She could tolerate a person laughing out right at her for a klutz attack but she just couldn't stand it if someone was laughing on the inside. 

Well…she would still get annoyed either way, but really. Why bother being polite about it if you were thinking it anyways.. err, headache.Thankfully, the bed was right in front of her. Soft and inviting. It was about here that the floor did a little wave motion and sent Kagome's equilibrium skittering_.  This must be bloody interesting_, she though dourly as she slipped to the floor at the edge of the bed, legs feeling acutely like jelly_, watching me make a fool of myself like this. I should have let him carry me. And I was so close. _

_Oh_, her mind was fuzzy, felt like cotton had been stuffed in there; as though she's skipped several days of sleep and she felt so weak. _Did I really loose that much blood? _

Two steel bands twined around her gently and lifted her into the air giving her just enough time to think _Hitori. So warm _and then the fuzzy darkness became her world. _Safe now_. Was her last conscious thought.

Sesshoumaru shook his pale haired head in admonishment that went unseen by the girl he settled her on the crumpled bed once more. He took note of her pale, clammy skin. She'd gone into shock then. He knew that if he removed her bandages he'd find the wound reopened and the healing flesh to have torn again. His senses had picked up the scent of her blood.

As had Shippou's he was certain. Speaking of Shippou, that cunning gleam in the boy's eyes had Sesshoumaru's hackles up. Demented parent trap would most likely be only the half of it. Still such a child. Would that fox ever grow up? Alas, Sesshoumaru knew that it wasn't in a kitsune's nature to be anything but what they were. And what they were was mischievous and cunning to that last bone marrow cell. 

He filed the thought away, noting to himself to keep a close eye upon the young kit and make sure to keep the door to his study closed under magical lock and key. 

That put aside, Sesshoumaru's fingers made quick work of the buttons on the lower region of his patients dress shirt, intent with changing her bandages once more. One by one the blouse fell open, allowing him a morbid view of bright, deep crimson stained white gauze. So he had been correct in his assessment of her condition. 

He set to work, one claw sliding out in length to sever the strands of gossamer crimson and snow white careful of he peach pale skin that it covered. One glance over confirmed his suspicions even further. The stubborn little thing had torn any scar tissue she'd developed when she'd, no doubt, flung herself into Shippou's arms. 

The stirrings of something suspicious inside his chest cavity made him pause his work, fingers grazing the warm flesh they hovered over. He'd felt this feeling once long before. When his father had given Inuyasha the Tetsusaiga, he'd burned with it. And now he smoldered inside with it once more, the sizzling feeling foreign in its familiarity. 

Pale brows furrowed, Sesshoumaru wondered _why_ he now felt this odd feeling again after so long and for a mere human at that. Given, he'd come to respect most humans on some mediocre level, but nonetheless, he knew not why he was caught in the stirrings of this tainted feeling. 

A displeased look settled in his oddly hued eyes as he pressed the thoughts to the posterior of his mind and returned to his more important task; bandaging the girl's wound again. He dealt with her much the same way he had the first night, as he had when she'd been bleeding all over his marble coffee table, out cold. 

Only this time, there was a great bit more gentility to the motions, though they were, all the same, ginger. And far more impersonal then they had first been. He wished to distance himself from the charming creature in order to be able to better view this new development- to dissect his odd impulses as of late. 

Perhaps gain a new perspective of this whole ironic affair. 

Shippou was fiddling with his leaf when Sesshoumaru drifted back into the kitchen, bloodied scrap gauze in hand and a somewhat distracted look on his pale face. The grin that fought to take his lips captive made Shippou duck his head and cough into his hand. He continued muddling with the leaf a moment longer, reigning in the giddiness he was experiencing fully certain Sesshoumaru was going to dip into his mind to read his thoughts. 

_Oh dear. _Better get rid of the evidence. Shippou started thinking other things, mainly about how Kagome had faired without him over the years and such the like. He focused on that sole idea and started picking at it with little mercy and a good thing too. For he felt that faint tingling sensation at the base of his head that spoke of the taiyoukai's little search before the feeling passed and the tingling faded away. 

He restrained himself from gushing a sigh of relief and waited with baited breath for any clue or reaction on the older demons part that would signify his plan had been discovered. 

There was nothing but the sound of rushing water and the clinking of tea cups and other dishes as they were washed. 

Shippou's leaf green eyes wondered to the waste bin and the crimson blotched white scraps, then skittered back to his own empty tea cup. He cleared his throat, "So-" 

But the sharp tone of Sesshoumaru's bored voice sliced through his weak beginning and like a flame burned the remains to a charred crisp. 

"Don't even _think_ about it." The water continued running.

The younger youkai gulped and gave a nervous chuckle as he sank spinelessly into his chair, feeling the wooden bars dig into his back as he did so. _Oh boy_. Obviously, he wasn't as smooth as he thought he was. That hurt. A lot. _Ouch. _

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	12. Chapter Eleven: He'd Put His Heart Away ...

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag… oh my god! We have a moment here people! And it's a Kodak one. Quick, get the cameras. Black mail? Need I say more?   

Song-fic: Somewhere by Default. 

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: So, Kagome is a smart cookie- Lets give her a diploma. Sesshoumaru accepts that he is 'weak'- Good dog. Shippou is probably doing the Macarena to celebrate this small victory- Can we say 'dead meat'? I can. Dead Meat. 

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  ::glomps all the wonderful reviews, feverish grin in place.:: Oh! You all love me, you really, really love me. How marvelous. ::chokes on the cheesiness of her words:: Ouchieness. Okay, no more lame little reject quotes from nameless movies. Or wherever they're from. Seriously, I can't fathom how _nice_ you all are. Or am I just that good? Oops I.. ah spilled a little vanity there. Heh, hope no one slips on it and breaks their necks. It would be a terrible loss for me. My poor heart couldn't take it. I am going to answer some of these reviews, since I feel I owe it to you. And you. And yes, you as well. But I cant answer them all. So know that I heart you loads and thank you heap big time. 

Anyways. One reviewer –I love you! In a purely platonic and professional way of course- asked if I was a professional writer. Heavens no. I'm only fifteen. However, it is my ultimate goal in life to become a published author. Thank you for you fantastic praise though. ^__^

   I'm sorry I made you wait so long Kido-chan. Do you mind if I call you that? And I'm doing the preliminary outline for my new story now. Thank you for your great review. (am I getting redundant or what?)

Yes, don't we all wonder what Shippou's got up his sleeve. Or sleeves, knowing the little imp. Or big imp now. Even I don't know what he's going to do… Heh he.

And thank you Ashleekyle. I was looking for quotes to use after I got done writing the chapter and that one popped right into my head before I knew what Hit me. I love A1 steak sauce myself so… And I _think_ I'm going to have Kagome start to stitch together who Hitori really is soon. ::squirms right along with you:: Problem is that I'm trying to figure out how exactly to go about having her figure it out and what her reaction will be.  

Whoa, Erika long review. So I'm just going to have to do this. ::bows repeatedly.:: Thank you! I'm glad you like how I've characterized Shippou and Frosty-kun. Frosty being Sesshoumaru. Great new nickname fir him, no? and about that confusing sentence. A necrohiliac is actually a worm…or a creature that thrives in dirt. But I figured Kikyou could be pretty much considered a creature of such since she's made of dirt. I meant that Inuyasha was so hung up over Kikyou that he was oblivious to Kagome's heart on a platter that she offered him.  And I'll try to reformat the thing. I tried to fix it when I first posted it but it was a no go.  

And a great big thank you to every one who I didn't mention. I love you all. 

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"I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind." – Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. (I've not read it yet, but the quote was good.)

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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

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            Chapter Eleven:  He'd Put His Heart Away For A Rainy Day. 

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Day fell to night and the night passed quickly. The gossamer web of stars was burned away by the solar flares of daybreak, the master of those very flares climbing its celestial ladder in a lethargic manner. Nocturnal creatures fell back to the comforts of shadows and the day dwellers slid into the refreshing stream of life where they would remain till the moon claimed her proper dues and shooed her solar brother back to his haven. The clouds, on the other hand, weren't swayed by either solar or lunar power and were being to converge upon Tokyo, fat and weighted by moisture. Their bellies swelled like that of a pregnant woman's, they waited…

However, the moon still retained her grasp on the room where a dark haired beauty rested her blue-gray eyes staring listlessly through the canopy of glass above her, however fleeting that hold would be. Hours had passed since the afore mentioned beauty had fallen into her slumber. And woken again, mind busy with odd thoughts and sudden enlightenments. 

In that time plenty had happened. Such as a certain young kitsune having to take his scheme back to the drawing board, a certain taiyoukai beginning to feel stirrings of emotions and a certain painting given more life stoke by stroke of the brush in the darker hours of night, when every one else was nestled in their dreams, snug in bed. 

And the soft pitter patter of the sky's tears against the roof and windows was a muted symphony that was nearly unheard by all. But it was there nonetheless.  

Sesshoumaru was silent as he locked the door to his study, dried paint flecked upon his person for the second morning in a row. He paused just outside the door, eyes sparking into a gold fire as he mentally conjured the magic that would keep his study from being invaded. For one moment in time, golden-red tendrils of his power flared out and coalesced into a net about the room before the traces faded. It would not be detected or seen by any one other then him.

Satisfied, Sesshoumaru drifted into the bathroom to begin the task of washing the dried pigments from his skin. He moved in unnatural silence, cautious in where he placed his weight. Not even Shippou's sharp senses would be able to discern him from every other faint sound.

The prospect of having one bouncy kitsune parade about him in the early hours of day break was about as appealing to Sesshoumaru as ..well, he could think of any number of unpleasant things, such as being locked in a room full of utter idiots or worse…being locked in a room with his moron of a half-sibling and not being able to kill said annoyance. Suffice to say that having Shippou pick at him for answers was not on Sesshoumaru's list of things to enjoy in the mornings. 

Rather, he preferred a nice spot of tea and a morning paper… forget the paper. Human affairs didn't much interest him. Well, tea it was then. 

Soon enough the heady aroma of warm tea wafted through the kitchen. Sesshoumaru, lazing at the table, ran a hand through his short hair and yearned for the length of silver he once had as he sipped his tea, contented with the herbs that washed over the surface of his tongue. He'd closed his eyes, bored with the monotony of the kitchen and settled instead for painting mental images within his mind's eye that he would later lay to canvas or other wise. Strangely enough, inspiration was coming to him far more willingly then it ever had before. The artist wasn't quite sure who to thank and perhaps blame. 

When that was no longer entertaining him, he instead focused on the girl's power. She reminded him of a calm lake. Pure and serene on the surface. But beneath the glassy waves, her power roiled and churned, dormant yes, until it was needed before it exploded to the surface, sending a fine spray of luminous droplets into a chaotic dance. Then, when done, sinking back to its sleep and allowing the lake to calm and conceal its secrets once more. 

Seconds later, he focused in on her power, which was just barely active as it tried to re-heal her wound. Like the coals of a near dead fire, her magick radiated warmth and heat waves rose in his astral vision from her spiritual body, just enough to illuminate but not to blind. The taiyoukai drew back into himself, breathing deeply and scenting slight traces of mint on the air. 

He sipped his tea, eyes flashing open, glinting gold for but a second then glowing their eerie green again. _Such a strange contradiction_, he mused to himself. _She grows more powerful spiritually, but physically is so very weak and fragile_. _So very breakable…._

Or was it that she was already broken and now was mending? 

His eyes narrowed. Perhaps she was afraid to mend. It would seem so… even that her powers were healing the tear in her flesh they didn't touch the ones in her heart. Every time he came close to her he could smell the weighted scent of her sorrow; it smelt of heavy rain and stale fog. She wallowed in it, wanting out of the tepid sea but afraid of exposing herself to the fresh and frigid air. 

For a moment, he pitied her, before sympathy for her and compassion over rode that pity. No, he would not pity her. Never. That proud creature would never wish pity for herself from _anyone_. He understood that quite well. 

Down the hall he heard a feminine yawn then the bed shift as weight was rolled from it. So, that 'proud creature' was fully awake was she? He'd been privy to the fact that she was lying awake. She'd been thinking too much to have been otherwise. He went to sip his tea again, pressing the cup to his parted lips. The amber liquid did not wash against them and warm them. 

The cup was empty. 

His eyebrows drew up sharply before smoothing again, as he set the teacup to the table. _Teacups don't hold quite as much as they used too_, he insighted darkly, staring at the remaining drop of amber at the bottom of pearl white. He leaned back and listened to the soft sound of faltering footsteps as they neared where he sat, then looked over his shoulder to the small form of Kagome standing in the archway of the kitchen. 

Her dark tresses were tousled and wild, hanging about her shoulders in a mused curtain of blue ebony ink. Dark blue eyes stared at him, the pupils large in the pre dawn light. She'd cloaked herself in the blanket he'd handed her the other day, willowy fingers tightly curled in the heavy weave.

He was struck by how small and vulnerable she looked, but at the same time was well aware that there was a fire to her that gave her more strength than any normal human. Made her all the more tempting… 

It was interesting, he admitted, how her fragility made his blood boil with the need to shelter her away, made the youkai in him want to protect her. 

Without a word she padded further into the kitchen then came to a halt before him, large luminous eyes never once relinquishing their hold over his. Sesshoumaru felt that strange feeling stir in his breast again even as he watched her with a certain amount of wariness usually reserved for a man facing down a predator. He didn't flinch when her warm, smooth hands framed his face brushing back errant blonde strands of hair or even when she brought herself closer to him, her spicy scent crashing against his senses pleasurably. Gray blue orbs searched his for something, something she knew was there but not where to find it. 

"Who are you _really_, 'Hitori?'" She whispered softly, her thumbs stroking over his cheeks as though tracing over invisible markings. Her eyes roamed over his features, traveled to his forehead like she was expecting something to have been there.  Those beautiful orbs narrowed as she tilted her head to the side, and her thoughts were almost tangible to him. Her eyes expressed it all. 

_~I've seen your face somewhere before I swear~_

_~Could it be I've met you somewhere else?~_

The age-old lord hadn't been expecting that question, he didn't know what he'd expected really, but his recovery was swift and elegant.

"Someone who has hid too long and has forgotten who he was. But I think you know very well _who_ I am." He answered, secretly relishing the warmth of her small hands and the feel of her velvet skin against his cheeks. Remaining completely still, his eyes watched her for a reaction. Good or bad. 

One small hand moved and brushed his bangs from his eyes then resumed its place upon his cheek. He suppressed the shiver that wanted to course through him. Her tender, nearly shy touches were nearly enslaving in their unsure, yet certain power

"Maybe I do, maybe I'm asking because I don't. You tell me." She whispered, breath fanning his features delicately.

The blanket was beginning to slip from her shoulders, he noted distantly. Without thought, he reached up and pulled it secure once more then let his hand drop back to where it had been previous its movement. She didn't react in any way, still watching him intently. With the same casual intensity, he realized, that he regarded her in. 

"Are you afraid of the truth?" Was his reply, somewhat harsh and challenging, somewhat gentle and compassionate. Just like he himself was.

She accepted the challenge and rose above it,  "Are _you_ afraid to give it?"

The corners of his lips drew upwards in a smirk, and, pressing his hands to her shoulders he pushed her away gently. The warmth of her own hands as well as the muted warmth of her body abandoned him as air space was forced between them. Without a word he rose to his feet and turned from her, " I'm a puzzle you see, it would be cheating if I were to figure myself out for you." 

Kagome followed him with her eyes, "The truth hurts." 

_~It's the way you turn and look at me~_

_~Your eyes are different but they're much the same~_

He paused, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking over his tense shoulder at her, eyes glinting with that hidden gold hue.  As if she knew how harsh a master truth was, he thought bitterly.

"Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl. 'Cause it hurts like hell." His voice had gone soft, and no emotions but bitterness was left to color his tone. With that his long legs began their stride, the shadows of the hall way reaching out and curling around him till he was lost to her weak human eyes. The place he sought now was his haven, his sanctuary. He sought his study, feeling that if he didn't get away from that innocently naive little thing out there he might do something he could not have any control over. Something he might regret. Or might not, he wasn't sure. 

The remaining being in the kitchen collapsed into the chair that he'd previously occupied, eyes blank and wide as her body soaked up the ghost warmth he's left. She looked down at her hands, and flexed her fingers, startled to find how they tingled and burned. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant finding… but it was startling naetheless. 

Abruptly, she stumbled to her feet and followed after him, determined to unravel the mystery of who he was. But the hall was empty, as was the bedroom when she poked her head into the doorway. Confused, she turned around and searched back down the hall with her eyes. Nothing. He'd simply vanished. 

Holding her side in protective instinct, Kagome gingerly collapsed against a closed door to try and calm herself. To think properly. 

_~ Have I seen you before?~ _

She knew who she _thought_ Hitori was. But there was no way that he could possibly _be _that person. Or rather, youkai… Taiyoukai. There were too many differences between the two personalities as well as their appearances to really seem possible to her. However, she was not so inept as to not notice the way the author moved and talked. He just radiated Sesshoumaru vibes. He moved like the deadly predator Sesshoumaru had been, talked with the same husky, deep yet unconcerned voice as the western lord did. Though for Sesshoumaru, perpetual boredom seemed to be the main coloring of his tones of speech. For Hitori that boredom had been replaced with dry amusement.

Then there was… a memory- a thought- Something that kept brushing over her mind every time she looked at him. It was distinct, yet so vague and wispy. During the night it had tantalized her with itself promise of enlightenment even as bits and pieces began to mesh together. Little things she'd passed off as flukes or delusions became more then a figment of her imagination as she began to question whom Hitori really was. At first, she thought him to be Inuyasha in disguise, but that was quickly filed as the foolish hopes of a broken heart that didn't know when to quit. 

So, she leaned against the process of deduction. Who would Shippou know from the past that he'd trust enough to be friends with now, had they lived this long?

 Kouga was immediately ousted since she was certain he probably would've pounced on her the moment she first opened her eyes to the strange room and dress. He would have spouted his claims of "my woman" and "now that inukuro is gone, we can finally yadda yadda yadda". 

Naraku…big firm 'No'. Not a chance in hell. She'd have sensed the evil, vile aura even half dead. 

The only other youkai Kagome knew of had been Sesshoumaru. As soon as the name entered her mind, it refused to budge, taking up root. From there the pieces continued to line up.  The odd aura that had a slight youkai taint, the way he moved, the depth and near monotone of his voice at certain times…

But…_It just doesn't add up properly_, she thought huffing. How was it possible for Shippou to befriend the frozen western lord? How was it possible that he'd allow himself to live among humans in this day and age? How was it possible that he'd save her and comfort her and do everything that he'd done for her? How!?  

It just didn't seem possible, that's all.  

Then again, neither did jumping into a well that would take you back into a warring era and falling in love with a brute of a half demon. She sighed, her head lowering.  The dull ache of her heart reminded her exactly _why_ she shouldn't be taking things for granted. Nothing was normal. Just leave it at that. If it didn't add up then it didn't add up but that wasn't to say it wasn't possible. Kagome had experienced her fair share of impossibilities.

She closed her eyes with another forlorn sigh, feeling more then a little lost and confused. She'd spent a night of being half awake, spinning around all these new notions and thoughts and revelations, waiting desperately for the sun to burn its signature into the sky. The moment the sky had taken on a dusty blue gray hue she'd been fully awake, body charged with her purpose. That purpose being to find Hitori and ask him who he was and hope to Kami he gave her a straight answer and not evade her question with a "Would you like some tea?" Or anything of that sort. But, he'd escaped her. It was ironic really, that she'd be chasing a potentially dangerous being. Death wish? Maybe. 

He tried to kill her in the past, but had saved her in the present and was still helping her. If that wasn't turning over a new leaf, she didn't know what was. So, against her better judgment she found herself not only chasing the man, but trusting him as well. 

How odd. 

Outside, the rain continued to fall. Kagome tilted her head, finally becoming aware of it. The girl listened, breathing quietly, thoughts whirling in chaos and still trying to complete the 'puzzle' that Hitori had presented her with. She just wanted him to trust her… Why? Her brows knitted together, as their owner bit her lip in absolute consternation. Why should she wish for him to trust her? And why did she ache with the thought that he might not even care about her in the tiniest fraction, not even enough to trust her? 

Her legs went to mush right about then, and she sank down against the door till she rested curled up to the cool wooden portal, knees to her chest. Why should she care at all? Why was she standing here, hoping for him to suddenly appear at her side, a small grin on his lips and an amused look in his wonderful eyes? 

Why was she even _bothering_ with all these questions?

So, Sesshoumaru thought, leaning against the study door regally. _She's finally begun to realize my identity_. He could hear her breathing just outside the door as she fluttered down the hall, could sense the turbulent mind waves she sent off. He could feel the pulse of her heart and could sense her emotions. None of which were named 'fear' or were cautionary in any way.

Why was she not afraid of him then if she knew who he was? Better yet, why was she actually _chasing_ him? _Such a trusting little thing really_, he mused. Against his back, the door gave a jar as a new weight settled upon it's opposite side. With her new proximity to him, he was able to feel everything to a magnification of ten. And it nearly bowled him over; her confusion and heartache... Remembering his half-wit brother, doubtless. That odd foreign-familiar feeling jumped inside him, sparked and boiled into life. Mildly disconcerted, his lips twisted into a frown.  

Again the gentle, steady rhythm of her breathing reached him through the wood of the door, soft and muffled against his ears. The horrid feeling ebbed and flowed from him, then was gone as he was lost in the calming effect she had on… him, he'd admit, and just about every one who was near her.

 Shaking himself from the stupor she'd placed him in, he pushed himself away from the door then turned to face it. Several moments crawled by, as he contemplated on whether or not to open the door and allow her to enter his most private sanctuary... or to wait for her to abandon her post and leave to seek out Shippou. 

She was clever figuring out who he was so fast. The stoic youkai wondered how she'd come to the revelation. Perhaps it was that she'd woken up sometime in the night while he'd been painting and had been thinking over all that she'd witnessed earlier yesterday. 

Or, mayhap, she remembered what she'd called him in the park and, to coin the phrase, things just clicked into place. There were too many possibilities to her remembering, and he didn't care to dip into her mind to find out what she did know. He'd vowed not to trespass into her thoughts during his night of solitude as he'd worked his talent to the canvas via the paints. It was his way of showing respect even though no one would bare witness to it. 

Respect. For a human. It was a marvel to him to realize this. But it was the truth, and Sesshoumaru was never foolish enough to believe something false. It was below him to come up with excuses and to try and deny something. Denial was a terrible, destructive path though beautiful and tempting in its own right. It was like pride, in that it always went before the fall. Denial made one weak.

Sesshoumaru would never allow himself that weakness. 

And he was not going to follow the path his father had walked. He'd make his own. The girl could just remain on the other side of that door. He didn't care…. 

….. _Bloody. Hell_. 

 Behind her, the door gave a 'click' and swung back away from her, leaving her sprawled on her back and looking up somewhat dazedly at the solemn, elegant face of Hitori. 

He lifted a silvery blonde brow at her position but said nothing as he crouched down and just watched her intently. Some distant part of her cheered, while another noted that he looked a tad miffed about something or other. But the majority of her was just relieved, and she gave him a weak, wavering smile. 

The man sighed, and reached out obviously intending to help her to stand.

His charming explanation: "Well? You wanted the truth and you're going to get it. So, either get up now or I will not grant you enlightenment."

The smile blossomed as she accepted his hand firmly, and as his strong artistic fingers wrapped around her tiny wrist, her own delicate fingers laced themselves around his own wrist as far as they could go. She was lifted gently from the floor a ways before his other arm slipped under her and she was lifted against him nearly in the bridal fashion, save fore the fact that he cradled her in only one arm. He had not let go of her hand. 

"I can walk you know." She murmured, even as she relaxed against him unconsciously. 

"Don't start that again," He warned, good natured even for all his miffed tone. 

The door creaked quietly and slid into it's frame, locks snapping into place. All was quiet in the hall once more save the gentle symphony of the rain fall. 

_END CHAPTER._

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 Yes I know. That hurt's like hell bit was pulled from the Labyrinth. But my god, it fit with the conversation and I couldn't resist! And for the song, only some of the lyrics fit. I used what did. If I had used the whole song it would have thrown you all for a loop and screwed the whole chapter's rhythym over. 

Ah, anyways. I have a little addition to this chapter. We'll call it my _Promotion Corner_, even though it's not technically a 'corner'. Either way… May I suggest these marvelous stories by talented authors:

**To Live Again **by Rurouni Star. I absolutely adore her story and the style its woven in. It should not be over looked and in my opinion needs more reviews. So, go and _review_ if you would be so kind.  ::evil look as she lifts up her peashooter™:: Don't make me threaten you. 

**The Red **by Akai-chan. Heh, I love the song itself and the story was just as marvelous. A lovely read, and I like it, so you know it's good. ::winces at how arrogant that sounded:: Well, what can you do? Please do leave plenty of worship for the author now, or else. ::waves pea shooter threateningly:: 

**Drops of Jupiter **by Lady Sephiroth. I heart Sepher-chan and I curse her for getting me hooked on a Kag/Inu pairing. ::shakes fist at Sepher-Chan:: You're evil…in a good way. So, go read her story and have fun. It's very amusing too. And…if you are lucky you may get to imagine Sesshoumaru in a shower doing the herbal essences thing complete with sound. Heh. I was. ::nosebleed:: Whooo….

 Eh…and if anyone out there is interested in being my beta reader please drop me a line. I am in desperate need of one. That's it for now. Please leave a contribution in the little box. Feed a starving writer, yes?


	13. Chapter Twelve: Another World Part A

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.

Pairing: Sess/Kag

Song-fic: 

Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!! 

Summary: So, now Kagome knows the truth, and Sesshoumaru has told of other things… What will she do? There is still more she needs to know… And Shippou is lurking somewhere, Plotting, scheming I'm sure.  

Genre:  Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.

A.N.:  Oi, sorry about the long wait. I've been focusing on my art rather then writing (Why? Because I hit one hell of a writers block. Erggg…). Then, when I was trying to type up this chapter…. Nothing came. I couldn't focus well enough to even type a decent sentence. So its all blah, crap, junk, trash, throw it out the bloody window and get rid of it. Now, about here, I decided to wait. I don't believe in forcing the story. No no, that's like force feeding a baby. They'll puke up what you've feed them and …its not pretty. So, I took so long because I was waiting for a kick in the head from inspiration. It took a freaking long time to come along, I'll tell you what. So, please no kill me? ::begs:: 

Plus the chapter is short because.. writer's block really sucks. Plus, I'm moving. Yes. I don't have enough time everyday to try and chisel away from my writer's block. So this is all I got till I get settled into my new house. But, on the side, I'll be working on the rest of the chapter. 

I hope you all are willing to forgive me my lameness. ::bows and grovels:: 

See, I didn't even have time to find a quote for this chapter. Or a song… -.-;;;

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____________

Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper. 

____________________________________________  

            Chapter Twelve:  Another World. Part A

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Stepping into the room was like walking into a museum of sorts, a small one surely. A four sided world of ancient treasures and modem baubles and trinkets. She felt a tingle dance up her spine and around in her gut. This little 'museum' fairly radiated odd powers. Her miko senses fizzled then kicked into overdrive. 

One wall, the one she faced now, was clad in red silk- a charming background to the silver metal of battle regalia and war relics. Whatever small doubts she had had over 'Hitori's' identity were promptly blown from the water when her gaze was drawn to the twin blades that were crossed in the center of the red silk. In a heart beat's passing she immediately recognized the time worn hilt and the battle-nicked blade of the fang Tetsusaiga…

Her mind leaped on the implications of Sesshoumaru having the blade and she braced herself for the emotional assault. It came just as she suspected it would, sharp stinging needles piercing her insides like the splinters of shattered glass… For Sesshoumaru to have attained the fang, that could only mean that Inuyasha had … had…

 She choked and turned away from the wall, away from the glaring metal of the blade and worn leather of the hilt and whatever it had meant for Inuyasha. 

Sesshoumaru watched her reactions with the intense scrutiny he was so professional at. Watched the fleeting awe, the shock then the sickened horror…and was startled to find an answering pang of something odd within him at her clear distress. Such a pity that she'd immediately think the worst of what the fang on his wall meant but then he didn't suppose he could blame her really. 

After all, he had been rather cruel to her and Inuyasha once upon a time. For him anyways. In lee of the new information on her, he gathered it had been only months or so ago for her. So what was five hundred years beyond for him was a fresh memory for her. 

Humans were so quick to judge, he mused. But not this one, at least not usually. She had all the right in the world to run screaming from him, call him a bloody murdering bastard though it would have been incorrect. He wasn't a bastard…

 Naetheless, she stood her ground, used those marvelous eyes to look at him in complete trust. Something that was simply mind boggling to him. 

Talk about a guilt trip… ugh. Without a word she'd managed to make him regret ever trying to kill his half sibling, mongrel though he was. Or maybe it was just that he regretted trying to kill her. 

Pressing the mental issues to the back burner, Sesshoumaru lowered himself to the soft confines of his chair and prepped himself to give her the facts and tell her the brutal truth. He quickly sketched out his speech; he would be brief, honest and precise. She needed to know. Hell, he needed to tell her. It was driving him mad with the need to tell her. 

Because for some odd reason, he didn't want her to jump to the wrong conclusions and …god forbid, hate him. It just didn't sit well with him, made something in his chest squeeze and quicken. It wasn't pleasant and he had no desire to experience said feeling more then necessary. 

He cleared his throat quietly, calling her wavering gaze to him, then he pointed to the chair (so conveniently placed across from him) as a place to park her bum so he could lay it to her strait and not have her falling down in shock. She complied, trembling a little but remarkably calm. What less could he expect? Brave lass. 

"No. I did not kill Inuyasha and take the sword, if that's what running through your mind. But yes, Inuyasha could be considered dead." 

Sparing her a probing glance he was thusly intrigued to find that her eyes had gone flinty with raw ache, yet she shed no tears. Something of determination shone out at him under that concrete gaze and he found his respect for this contradicting creature before him rise a notch. Or several. 

"To me, the details are rather dim. At the time I was hardly interested in what that mutt was up too and I preferred to keep to my own business. However, I learned from ..sources that you'd vanished, seemingly without even the cliched trace. Afterwards, so did Inuyasha, though I later found the Tetsusaiga. I had assumed he'd taken the undead miko's hand and had gone to hell with her. I didn't care to find out. I had what Id wanted, he had what he wanted…" 

His voice trailed off as he leaned forward towards her, noting the way her pale fragile hands were turning white as she fisted them in her lap over the red material of his shirt. Below that the pale flesh of her lean legs. 

And he'd wager she was flexing her toes just as viscously as she was her fingers. He looked up into her eyes and waited for her to focus on him once more. 

The fragile, shaking creature before him seemed to straighten and the concrete of her eyes settled to a cool steel hue as she looked at him, jaw unclenching and clenching every few moments. 

"I have to go back then." Her words were soft and as clear as a chime brushing against a shifting zephyr. 

Startled, his eyes flicked over her features, finding the signs of a decision made in her eyes and the set of her jaw. The odd green gold orbs shifted down to her hands to find them fisted with her determination, her knuckles nearly bleached. 

"Well, aren't you a surprising little human hmm?" Sesshoumaru leaned back, feeling the leather back of the chair press against his back offering a small amount of support as he relaxed. His eyes though, remained trained on her, none of the small amount of amusement present in his gaze as there had been in his voice. The oddly hued eyes were slowly lightening to a pure honeyed gold. 

Kagome was struck into a stupor as she watched his pale blonde hair loose the scanty gold shade and shift into silver-white. The spiked gold melted into liquid silver and grew into a waterfall over his shoulders, growing back to the length that would soon reach the back of his calves. 

Faintly at first, but slowly gaining color, the crescent moon became more than a memory on his pale brow, the deep maroon streaks blazing onto his cheekbones. 

Where the young Hitori had been perched before there was now the ancient Taiyoukai of the western lands in all his pale, ethereal glory. 

A face that was so clearly Sesshoumaru's, silk soft silver bangs brushing down over his forehead and framing the symbol of his status, the lithe, deadly body, and the quietly overbearing arrogance in his features, as well as the youki she could now sense most clearly…everything. 

He was all there. And yet, there was something missing in his molten gaze. His loathing for humans was not as prominent as it had been to her the last time she'd seen him. He was a tad more expressive.

A part of her realized in awe, that time had done what nothing else could have. Time had eroded this magnificent beings hatred… had changed him and smoothed away any rough edges. The evidence of them still remained, but just barely. 

Now more then anything, the youkai before her looked world weary and tired. In place of boredom was an offbeat amusement. Arrogance.. oh the arrogance still held firm in him, but it was tempered by a sense of mortality.  

_Mortality? What had life done to him…to make him something like human? _Kagome regarded the youkai before her, eyes not their brittle hue any more, but a soft silver-gray. Five hundred years had taken Sesshoumaru and done something to him. 

The real question was, what that 'Something' had been. 

_END CHAPTER._

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	14. Chapter Thirteen: Another World Part B

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13, R for some parts  
Song Used: _What You Are_ by Audioslave

Genre: Everything left of the middle. Beware the dry wit. And Sarcasm. Could be dangerous to your health.

Warnings: What could I warn you about that you haven't already read?

Disclaimer: All together now. Silver does NOT own Inuyasha. There. That wasn't so bad now was it? I know you all are disappointed. But you'll live. Promise.

Summary: Oh, decisions, decisions. What's a girl torn between a love in the past and her emotional stability in the future to do? Good Question Bob. Let's ask Kagome. Kagome? What have you to say?: "What can I do? How can I make this right?" Bob: ….Well, there you have it. No one knows. 

A.N.: Arrrgh! How I hate it when my dad reformats the computer without letting me burn my files to a CD. Y'see, My father dearest did _just_ that so the chapter I had written was completely deleted. Along with all my other documents, which I needed…Luckily, I had most of it to memory. But trust from now on that I'll be writing out my chapters to paper before typing them. Insurance. Ha.  

Another thing. Writers on a single story sucks. But writers block for anything and everything pertaining to picking up a pen and writing something is a killer disease.  

Review Responses: Dude… I have gotten so many great amazing and marvelous reviews. I just died nearly every time I read one. Speaking of dying… and dead things. 

S.C: In reply to your ::hands you the award for the best and most helpful review ever:: review. Thank you. I think Ill have Kagome go to the bathroom soon. Her bladder is probably 947639476 ounces too full. ^^;;;

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"_And when you wanted me,  
I came to you.  
And when wanted someone else,   
I withdrew.  
And when you asked for light,   
I set myself on fire.  
And if I go far away,  
I know you'll find another slave_."

-What You Are// Audioslave.

___________________________________________________________________ 

Chapter Thirteen: Another World. Part B. 

___________________________________________________________________ 

 Humans were really quite interesting creatures, Sesshoumaru idled to himself. They were a contradiction to their fabric of existence. Greedy, generous, hateful, loving, kind, cruel… Every human was a walking Yin Yang. However they were an imperfect balance of the two; either leaning towards the dark or the light. As such humans had the affinity to be both. He'd rarely ever met a human with perfect balance. 

As such it was rather bizarre that Kagome made him question these views. 

He knew well enough that she would do whatever it took to protect those she loved, like many humans would. That she would kill to protect the ones she loved, and she had done so on a fare amount of occasions. He was secure in the knowledge of this. That she'd steal to feed them, would lie (she wasn't very convincing at it, he was sure) and do whatever she could so long as it meant ensuring her loved ones were safe. She would even die for them- though he could honestly see no point in that. This fact was simple yes; die to protect them. But he was curious as to how one would achieve this goal if one was dead. Thus he saw no point.

What he wanted to know was why all this seemed to further set her apart from her race that she was so a part of. And yet, on the same turn, not.  He wanted desperately to understand this puzzle box wrapped in an enigma and further concealed by the child-like innocence yet age-old wisdom that was Kagome. 

It was all very confusing. Sesshoumaru did not take well to being confused. 

Ergo, he watched her, his keen eyes following her frantic movements. Her need to do something had pushed her to her feet and her loyalty drove her to pace in weary frenzied circles upon his carpet. Intent gold eyes swept down to the mentioned carpet and he imagined her could vaguely make out her tread path. 

They shifted back to her face, a study of worry and hectic thoughts. She looked about ready to faint. 

"Kagome. Sit down, before you fall down." He snapped, icy dominance touching the soft tones. The girl blinked wide doe eyes at him and planted herself in the chair without argument, more out of shock at being told what to do. 

Five seconds later she'd leapt to her feet again and was glowering at him, "You can't tell me to sit and do nothing! I have to go back! Inu- ohhh…its all my fault."

She moaned as she sank back into the chair, covering her pale, fevered cheeks with her shaking hands. The dark swirling miasmic purity of her eyes flashed up to his, "But…what can I do?" 

_Good question_, he concurred mutely, watching as she ran her hands through her hair in frustration. The thin, frail body she lived in was practically shaking with her thoughts and urge to follow her loyalty.  

No doubt her fragile heart was quailing in the wakes of her need to stop his brother from going to hell with her sans life look-a-like, he though bitterly; surprising even himself. He focused on her again, and was startled minutely to find that all the frenzied activity had left her body leaving her slack in the chair. Gray eyes were dimmed with a soft kind of regret and sorrow. 

He watched her, curious to the change. The image reminded him of a rag doll. Carelessly tossed away. Or perhaps a puppets whose strings had been severed from the cross of stick that gave it its life. It was a dismal image. Kagome was not made to be filled with this kind of torment.  

Kagome shivered, staring at nothing. Her mind flashed back to all the times Inuyasha had brought her down and then when she finally broke. Despite all that he had done to her though, she felt no resentment towards him. He didn't deserve to be dragged to hell. She sighed, closing her eyes and listening to what her heart wanted. 

She couldn't feel him there anymore, just the ache of loosing him and the need to keep him from being lost forever to a dead being twisted by revenge lust. Her eyes opened again, trained on the twin fang swords on the red swathed wall or more specifically the Tetsusaiga. He fang-blade seemingly floated there on a sea of crimson. A beautiful backdrop to the ugliness and battle scared blade of awesome power. So much like Inuyasha 

She had done so much for him…

She didn't want to face him. 

She didn't want to break again.

But she knew that she couldn't let her fear of him allow Kikyou to destroy him. She would do one last thing for him, then she would withdraw from his life. It would be…Her last gift; duties as a miko and the keeper of the Shikon no Tama not withstanding. It went without saying. 

Kagome's eyes hardened a moment before softening to the clear gray-blue of a cloudy day after a good rainfall. She turned to look at the taiyoukai, one trembling hand coming up to rest over the Shikon, which lay nestled safely near her heart just under the shirt. The muscles in her legs coiled and released as she stood up, hand still pressed to the place just a few inches below the dip of her collarbone, just between her breasts.

Dark honey gold met her slate blue gaze, and then dropped to her lips as she mouthed her decision to him. 

"_I must," _Barely even a breath supported the words. But he could read lips, and his sensitive hearing pulled the words from the air and into his mind anyways. 

To be blunt, he was not surprised in the least. Rather, he'd been expecting it, really. Kagome was, when concerned for friend or family, as predictable as the rest of the human race. Long silver hair shivered as Sesshoumaru rose to fully utilize his superior height over her tiny form. Her wide blue-gray slate eyes blinked up at his towering person, slightly wary but wholly determined to have her way.

The taiyoukai hid the glint in his eyes; that was exactly what she wasn't getting. 

"You wont be going anywhere till you have healed, _ningen_. And traipsing around in my abode like you have is not exactly helping your cause. You've torn your wound." He stalked towards her, fully playing the part of a predator on his deadly game of prowl. Forcing her to take an answering step back so that he did not touch her, "_Again_" 

The emphasis was all too clear. 

The miko plopped back into the chair he had backed her too, the seat of it forcing her knees to fold when they had come into contact. Kagome gaped at him, shocked. It seemed to have flown her mind that he was, after all, a youkai.  

"H-how…did you..?" 

A teasing smirk amused the man demons lips as he crossed him arms and looked down at her. The answer was frank, with a slight purring growl. "I can smell your blood." 

The small human sitting in front of him made a fish like impression before finally regaining her vocal chords. She truly amused him sometimes.

Kagome accused, "You're trying to intimidate me!" 

"Oh, I am, am I?" Sesshoumaru perked a finely crafted silver brow and titled his platinum head just ever so slightly. A perfect moue of predatory mock confusion if Kagome had ever seen one. Moments snuck by trying desperately not to be noticed as miko and youkai stared each other down in a near childish battle of wills. Nearly childish because this was more then a simple game. 

Sesshoumaru gave curiosity a second to wonder why he cared so much about her going back to the silly hanyou in such a condition, but then he had come to terms with the fact that he did in some unconventional way respect this miko for her bravery. And now her weakness was calling out to a long forgotten side of him; he wished to protect her. 

Who was he to deny himself something so simple? Five centuries before he'd have immediately ignored that voice or brutally murdered it to shut it up. But, time had whittled down his youkai pride and shaped it into something far more useful. Some might dare to venture a name for this new aspect of Sesshoumaru. 

Humanity had grown in him. 

And that same humanity was now demanding that he take care of Kagome till her wounds had healed nicely. His mind paused again. Wounds? Plural?  

Yes….wounds. They sometimes went far deeper than just the skin. Sometimes… they affected the heart. Sesshoumaru's eyes softened, just barely. While the body bleed red crimson for proof of its pain, sorrow had no other way to show its pain that by bleeding tears. Eyes were the windows to the soul. So wasn't it safe to assume that Kagome, who he knew had been crying last night, when she cried… it was her soul bleeding?  

Gently, a clawed finger traced the curve of her cheek, a near phantom touch for all the ginger care. A path that, no doubt, so many tears had taken in her life. Humans cried so often….

"You cant save everyone, Kagome." He whispered, beginning to pull back his hand. 

Therefore, it's quite useless to say he was sufficiently startled (though it never showed on his face to be sure) when her small, delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist and held his hand in place against a silk-smooth cheek that pressed into his palm. A silent plea for this small measure of comfort.

Once again, upon seeing his clawed fingers poised so delicately against her flesh, he was reminded of exactly how fragile this little miko was. And, at the same time, just how weak she wasn't.

"My heart says I can try." 

_________________________________________________________________________ 

A.N: I sorry this is so short. I really wanted to make it uber long for all of you. But my muse is like…dead. Truly. Im in search for a new one.   I cant even draw. It depresses me. Im going to try harder on the next chapter. I promise. Im thinking of making White Dogs a trilogy of sorts. Who knows? ^___^ 

  
  


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Gardenia Humanity

White Dogs: Perversity.

Rating: PG-13, R for some parts  
Song listened to: Jackie's Strength – Tori Amos

Genre: Everything left of the middle. Beware the dry wit. And Sarcasm. Could be dangerous to your health.

Warnings: What could I warn you about that you haven't already read?

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Summary:. Sesshoumaru has an epiphany. We'll call this epiphany Kagome. And we'll subtitle it, Humanity.

A.N.: Writers block kicked my ass. Totally and completely. However, I bite back. So, I'm now in the recovery stage. Hope to God I can crawl the rest of my way out of this obscenely deep abyss the Block threw me. It'll be slow going at first, and all I ask is that you will bare with me. I hope you forgive me.

Review Responses: I **love _you. _**Oh yes. _You._And you. And yes, even you. 3

" Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

Her infinite variety: other woman cloy

The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry

Where most she satisfies."

– William Shakespeare. _Antony__ and Cleopatra._

Chapter Fourteen: Gardenia Humanity.

At some point in time, Humanity had come to mean more then just being of the homo-sapient origin. Perhaps this time was when Jesus walked the earth, compassion and healing and love his weapons of choice where blades of metal would not suffice. Perhaps, this time came after and the Christ child of God was merely the sewer of this seed named Humanity. In such effect, Humanity came to encompass the hearts capacity for kindness, compassion, love and loyalty to those it held most dear. It came to mean sympathy, empathy, and the ability to forgive and show mercy. Humanity was humanity merely because it had been something only _humans (_to their knowledge)had experienced. In all other animals instinct and primal urges ruled; the heart was but an organ meant to pump blood laden with oxygen to the body for nourishment and sustained living. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sesshoumaru, neither a being animal or human but something of both, a hybrid of something more, sat and as he regarded the ebon haired, steel eyed mortal before him in that moment determined that Kagome was singularly one of the most _humane _creatures he'd ever encountered. He was, quite simply, astounded. Floored, even.

Leaning back into his plush chair, he continued his perusal of her determined features and once more marveled at this thing called humanity that she seemed to have in over abundance.

"Ahhh," he sighed, "Human beings never cease to amaze me."

"Pardon?" she blinked liquid grey eyes.

With a rolling shrug of his shoulders, he clarified: "One minute broken a hearted little thing, the next you're preparing to reach out with a strength that wasn't there before. It is intriguing." The sharp gold eyes focused on her, speculation and something deeper taking place behind the honeyed veil and slit black pupil. It was the deeper something that drove his next actions.

Frozen in front of him, caught and held by those golden iris-ed eyes, she stood. Poised as if for flight. A bird in front of a cobra, hypnotized by the sudden danger and power of the beast and frozen by her own mortality. Mesmerized, Kagome didn't see his hands with their fatally sharp claws until she _felt _the velveteen warmth of his palms and finger pads cage her face and tilt it upwards for his view. Black bangs were swept aside by long, elegantly lethal nails leaving him an unobstructed panoramic of her eyes. Her heart gave a curious leap at the contact. Some small voice in the back of her being wondered if this was where he killed her now. But that look in his eyes… she felt more like he was devouring her.

Her words came tumbling out from parched lips like dry water, "Wh-What are you talking abou," and were dammed just as quickly by one gentle, rough-padded thumb.

Kagome shivered. It was only partially from being cold.

What a delicate little picture she made, poised in place like she was, trapped by his hands. Grey eyes wide, pale skin kissed by a slight flush of dusky rose, blue ebony hair in a haphazard tumble around her shoulders. Most intriguing was how damn _fragile _she felt beneath his hands. All spider-web skin, butter-soft muscle and ceramic bone tied and reinforced with silken-will tendons. Like a china doll. And beneath all that, hidden by the skin and bones, the gardenia that beat fiercely, flooding blue humanity through tissue paper veins.

In the lower edge of his vision, her blood fluttered like the wings of a butterfly in the pale spider-web column of her throat. It would take but a single claw to scissor through her skin and release her butterfly pulse. Something so simple could easily banish her life to the other-realm. She was entirely too breakable for his liking, held as she was between his solid strength.

He felt the shiver that passed through her body, felt it as is passed into him. He was suddenly acutely aware of her state of dress, or lack thereof, and inwardly scowled for forgetting.

The poetic moment slid back into the shadows of his mind as his thoughts sharpened.

Frowning marginally, his hands fell away from her face and in one fluid motion his body bent while his arms scooped her up against his chest -her startled 'eep' tickling his ear as she threw her arms about his neck instinctively- and he started forward to the door. He was quite intent on taking her back to the warmth of bed and healing of sleep; the arm that was not holding her legs reached for the knob knowing that she herself had a nice enough grip around his neck to sustain her torso. The knob turned, door opened and down the hall they went. Well, he went, she was along for the ride.

_'What', _Kagome wondered later as she watched the stars through the skylight and her unholy angel sleeping in his chair from the corner of her eye, '_had that been about?' _He'd gently tucked her into bed, all stern mother hen and gruff old protective hound (which was really too much of a pun), telling her conversationally that she was going to die of blood loss if she kept up with her moving about. She'd been too discombobulated to protest this, her stomach still dancing with nerves from that strange, heated almost-_moment_.

But she found, after the shock wore away, she wasn't able to ask the thought she so wanted. Something in his gilded eyes made her throat close around the words and keep them locked up. Her throat stayed seized by an invisible force as he backed away from her and made himself comfy in the chair by the bed. Strangely, she'd swallowed her words and felt them come to rest in the pit of her belly – waiting for another time perhaps- as he closed his own eyes and seemed to sigh into sleep.

She knew he wasn't truly asleep, even as she watched him now from the corner of her eye, watched the moonlight play on his impossible hair and angelic face and felt the weight of words swallowed. She knew somehow that he was watching her too though not with his eyes. No, there were other senses to watch with. Inu- She slammed the box shut, determined not to make Pandora's mistake a second time. Still, she knew that eventually she'd have to open the box and face what had become her fear.

With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and, still seeing the serene Inu Tai-youkai in her mind, fell into a troubled sleep.

The life of the sigh was melancholy though short lived. It told of covered emotions, a shredded shroud wrapped around a bleeding heart. Sesshoumaru listened to it and felt the prick of need to... He severed the thought in half, like the severing of a wrist from it's hand that had been placed too familiarly on his person.

He waited till he was quite positive the woeful creature in his bed had fully slipped away to Morpheus' land of dreams, then rose to his feet and quit the room in favor of his studio. This was becoming a discomfort; these stirred up emotions he had never wanted anything to do with ever were suddenly inundating his reality. The studio was a haven from the insanity. He fled to it eagerly, fled to his paints where there was control and he held the reins of the carriage that seemed intent on crashing over the cliff of his perception and plunging down to the sea of unwanted desires and feelings.

Of course, he should have expected to find more then just his sanctuary in the night. Just simply getting away in peace was too much to ask, for who should be hunkered down by the plain white door but a single kitsune hell-bent on picking magical locks and ruining his plans of staying detached and collected?

The taiyoukai's lips twisted into a sneer of irritation. On silent feet, he padded past Shippou, grabbing the kit deftly by his collar on his way by and twisting the pliant material tight in his hand around the overly curious neck.

"Come along, runt." He said. It was a tone that said "_Argue and I will be glad to introduce to you your spleen_."

The sudden tightening of his shirt around his throat and hauling of his person jarred an expletive of surprise from Shippo's mouth, but he couldn't very well offer more resistance than that. So, he settled on the only show of rebellion he could and crossed his arms over his chest (a la petulant child) as he was dragged down the hall and into the living room. He grumbled to himself the whole way, and mentally wrote his will with a fancy quill and elegant script.

_To whom it may concern,_

_I would like my collection of pranks to be given to any orphanage, my bottle cap collection can be sold to whoever, but I must insist that anything of true value goes to Miss Kagome Higurashi. _

_I'd also like the smut I have to be burned, please. _

_Let it be known that Hitori Wasuremono is not to get a bloody dime, and that his latest book should not be published. Let the ass take that and smoke it. Bruise his ego a bit I hope, getting turned down and all. Then again… that might get someone headless… Hm… in which case… _

_There is blackmail material in the vault at my home, you can find it behind the picture of the hot blonde in the Porsche. The combination is 1-11-32-OW!_

Inner monologue cut off by a smart cuff to the side of his head, Shippou gave an indignant squall much akin to that of a cat who has had the unfortunate experience of being dipped in water. Several times. Upside down, even. Shippou felt entirely not happy, and entirely doomed. And, now that he was paying attention, he realized the feeling of being upside down was because, in fact, he _was _upside down. Oh dear. That didn't bode well.

The feeling of doom increased by the vertigo and blood rush, the kitsune adopted his best pair of puppy eyes (though he had nothing on Rin in this regard) and unleashed them on the unfeeling block of ice holding him by his ankles.

For an unfeeling ice cube, the two golden eyes staring down at him in boredom were contradictive in their warmth of hue. But, Shippou knew that the more bored Sesshoumaru looked, the more painful the demise of whoever happened to be on the receiving end of said bored look. Sesshoumaru looked mighty bored up there. Somewhere, Shippou mused, there was a gravestone with his name on it and an epitaph reading"Suspected he ran out of luck". And suspect he did. _Lady Luck, you are a cruel mistress and have left my bed cold. Damn you._

In the beginning of this chapter, Sesshoumaru describes Kagome very poetically. He describes her heart in the following:

"And beneath all that, hidden by the skin and bones, the gardenia that beat fiercely, flooding blue humanity through tissue veins."

Figuratively speaking, of course. Anyways, in the meanings of flowers, the gardenia is supposed to stand for purity. Which is perfect, I think, for Kagome because she IS pure, no? And, the gardenia happens to be my favorite flower. 3 Also, gardenia's stand for "secret love". Oh, the symbolism.

I was going to use a gladiolus for her heart, because that meant strength of character. Buuuuut, that flower was also the flower, to my understanding, of the gladiators. So you can see why I didn't use that particular blossom.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Fragility Meets Solidit...

_**White Dogs: Perversity.**_

Rating: PG-13, R for some parts  
Song listened to: Hear You Me – Jimmy Eat World.

Genre: Everything left of the middle. Beware the dry wit. And Sarcasm. Could be dangerous to your health.

Warnings: What could I warn you about that you haven't already read?

Disclaimer: Don't own. So, y'know… you can't sue me, you can't sue me, nyeah nyeah.

Summary: Shippo and Sesshoumaru have a little heart to heart, off-white father to not-quite son like bonding. Aww. Kodak moment.

Review Responses: I'd just like to say "Thank you" to the reviewers here, but I'd also like to point out that I got a lot of "update fast!" one liner reviews that are more like spam then anything. And while it's nice that my fic is loved and waited for with utmost impatience, it's irritating to just get ten "Update!" reviews for every one review I get where the reviewer tells me why they like my writing, where they comment on how silly Shippo is or so. Believe me, I'm not ungrateful for the turnout and love this fic is getting. I really, truly adore writing when people love what I write. But "update more!" and "Hurry up or I'll stop watching you" don't get me going. They do not lift my skirt, so to speak, and make me want to sit down and write up a storm. They don't make me feel warm and fuzzy. They make me feel pressured and galvanized, and then rebellious. I write at my own pace, I'm struggling with a major writers block (yes, still) and it's not easy to come up with something original and fresh in a place where plot lines are hacked to death and dissected afterwards. The dead horse called, he kindly asks that you stop beating him. Also, if you wish for my attention and my devotion to trying to give you all something good to read, I ask that you give me something good to read in return. Otherwise, don't review. Thank you.

This is a polite request, please do not get offended at me for saying what's on my mind. So, if you wish to take me out and rough me up, do so in a polite and congenial manner. We're all mature here, I hope.

Anyways, to those who have left me marvelous reviews, I freaking adore you. Hug. ♥

Furthermore, I haven't had the… "pep" to write lately, mostly because this fic is composed mainly of angst. I haven't been angst-ridden enough to get in here and write tear wrenching lines. And now I am, so I have more fuel to work with. You may dance….. now.

* * *

_"When the subject is strong, simplicity is the only way to treat it."_

-Jacob Lawrence.

* * *

**_Chapter Fifteen: Fragility Meets Solidity._**

* * *

There are tales of people who'd faced death but lived to tell of it. In these tales, they said that your life would flash before your eyes. Or that you were in total darkness after which you'd become aware of a sliver of a redemption blade slicing the ink of eternal blindness towards you; soon the blade becomes blunt and more cylindrical and you realize that this is the light at the end of the tunnel. There are other thoughts too- like how you expected something like a train tunnel and not this strange morphing blackness creeping around your mind or the purity of light before you. You'd wonder how you'd gotten there, or where 'there' actually was. Then you wonder if that razor light was Heaven reaching towards you or Hell deceiving you. But for the most part, the stories stuck to the generic "your life flashes before your eyes." As though the rush of pre-death adrenaline awakens and stirs up forgotten moments of your whole life and the journals your mind's kept of your existence are re-read as the scenes flash through your mind.

Shippo, dangling upside down by his ankles- rather uncomfortably might he add, was wondering where the light was. Or, for that matter, when these life flashes were supposed to happen, and whether or not they included pop-corn. Neither event was happening, though he was getting rather giddy from the blood rushing to his head. He stifled a giggle and tried to think sober thoughts. Youkai were of a tougher stock of creatures, able to withstand paper cuts and the other such inane human banes of existance, but they were not impervious to a head rush when hung upside down for an extended amount of time. Maybe this was why there were no memories! He metaphysically leapt on that possibility with a certain sort of manic glee. His brain was drowning in blood and there wasn't enough room for anything else. Oooh, wonderful thought that. Better avoid thinking of autopsies and finding causes of death by a bloody drowning. Too literal. Too mundane. Unusual, granted, but mundane naetheless. He'd had visions of an honorable death in battle… this was NOT honorable. This was shameful.

All that aside- and life-flashy memories not forthcoming- Shippo decided this meant he wasn't going to die after all. He figured (okay, _knew_) that Sesshoumaru was the sort of youkai who wasted no time beating around the bush and would instead get straight to the spilling of guts and relieving the pestilence (whomever they happened to be) of certain burdens. Such as particular organs which required the removal of other particular organs to get to. Whee! He Lived! Capitol on the "lived" 'cause it was important, mind you. Now the giddiness was more than just a blood rush.

He grinned up at the bored countenance of Sesshoumaru, and noticed something. Something that was quite worth pointing out. Or, at least to his way of thinking at that moment (which was rather drunken at that moment and therefore should not have been trusted in the least), it was worth it.

"Hey! Heyheyhey, I can see up your nose!" Said he, in total excitement and honest awe. The next instant, he'd been dropped on his head where he then crumpled into a surprisingly compact heap. Before he met carpet, he thought he saw a flicker of annoyed disgust flash over the other's cold, chiseled features. Probably his imagination though. A glacier had more expressive ions than this silver-haired fellow had.

"Oof." Was the fox's half-complaint, half-breath. Apparently, the elder did not agree that it was worth having this tidbit pointed out. '_Well, excuse me_,' Shippo sniffed to himself testily.

Sesshoumaru's lips curled in mild disgust as his locked fingers disengaged their iron grip around the impertinent youth's ankles. Really, there was just _no_ staying mad at the kid, he lamented to himself. It was like trying to stay angry with a puppy. A really big, retarded, dew-eyed puppy. With some sort of dementia.

With a moue of total disinterest, the tall youkai ever-so-helpfully toed the heap of wiry limbs and bright hair. He was vaguely put out that he'd sunk so low in recent years.

To think; a couple of centuries ago and heads would have _rolled_ if someone so much as disturbed a hair on his beautiful head. Ugh.

For all his helpful prodding, the heap only grunted up at him. Sesshoumaru prodded him again, this time with less gentility and more brute force. This little 'game' of the kitsune's was tiresome; Sesshoumaru had better things to be investing his time in. Things that didn't involve impudent young upstarts who bore death-wishes.

Ugh, again.

Shippo popped up into a sitting position with enough speed to send up a small whirlwind to swirl in the silver freshly released hair of the older youkai, grinning like a fanged fruitcake all the while. The illusion over his tail, ears and fangs had given out some time ago, so now two pearly points made dents in his bottom lip as his face stretched ear to ear with his grin, with a bright tail of burnt sienna hue weaving in the air to his hind. Anyone _else_ would have been made quite uncomfortable by such a display, but Sesshoumaru was un-phased and got to his point quite immediately. After all, 400 years of this … certain immunities were bound to form. But still, there were lines one should not flirt with.

The kitsune was flirting. Shamelessly.

"Kitsune who meddle in other youkai's affairs are not often _long lived_." He began, clasping his hands behind his back in a tell-tale sign of 'I mean business, cretin, so listen closely.' Stress had been placed on the last two words of his veiled warning.

Shippo made much ado about appearing attentive solely on Sesshoumaru, his green jewel-tone eyes were wide with mock apprehension and his mouth hung open to add to the effect. He milked it for all it was worth.

Sesshoumaru felt a headache begin behind his eyes with a bang and tango combination around his frontal lobe as he looked down at the kit. Members of the kitsune kind were such drama-queens, and this one before him was no exception. Rather, he thought, Shippo went out of his way to be more then just a simple drama-queen. He was almost a one person soap opera. Just as disturbing, too. Not to mention cheesy.

Had he been the gambling sort, he'd bet his bottom dollar on a wager that Shippo took his dramatics to the extreme just to vex him. The kitsune truly needed better hobbies. Like being the thorn in someone else's side on the other side of the planet. Or dancing in the forest on the other side of the plante. Or… playing with his leaves… also on the other side of the planet. Just, _ugh_.

Vexing kitsune: "You've said that since … fo-_eve_r. It's lost its whole threatening feel, y'know?"

Irritated taiyoukai: "Are you in such a hurry to become acquainted with your mortality?"

Sobered up kitsune: "Not particularly. I rather like not knowing it. Thank you."

Slightly less than irritated taiyoukai: "Think nothing of it."

As such having reached a lull of conversation (which, Shippo noted, happened frequently with Sesshoumaru), things were still once more about the pent house. Sesshoumaru shoved the self-suffering sigh down in his chest and resisted the urge to rub his temples. This sucked. But as much as it sucked, he still had to lay some rules down- which he knew would be broken sooner or later, but at least with these rules he could later say "I warned him" when Kagome wondered why Shippo was no longer among the breathing- before the imp got it into his head to try something funny. Again.

Shippo approached Sesshoumaru with a proverbial stick and prodded, "Soooo… You like Kagome?" That was a safe topic, right? Right?

Sesshoumaru iced over. By the sudden shift of climate in the pent house, Shippo knew he'd hit some sort of raw nerve. _'Ohoh!__ X mark's the spot. Let us dig.'_ He valiantly kept his face carefully blank; a spot on study of Sesshoumaru's own expressionless visage.

Plot. Nod. Tread carefully; danger lies ahead. Insert _Mission Impossible™ _scene here. Duh duh duuuh.

He began again, licking dry lips first, "No..Right.. She like you?"

The pent house reached such an arctic climate, a polar bear would have found it nippy.

Several heartbeats. He counted, shifted, and plowed ahead nervously.

"Oookay. Well. How is _she _feeling in general?" This was a question Shippo hadn't intended to ask, and the answer was one he feared. But it had just spilled out. Freudian slip, he supposed.

The past slipped into his mind with cunning whispers, as though to say a heinous "hello". He remembered that last final argument between the too-good-for-this-earth miko and the dip-shit Inu hanyou. Remembered also the tears that slashed jagged across her fair cheeks as she darted away; the salty, pained-scent of them twisting in his sensitive nose. Inside, he felt his heart twinge. No one should have to be shoved into a mold not their own and forced into a shape they didn't belong in.

She was there in his mind, painted by memories of sunshine warmth, flooding laughter, soft hands, loving hugs and a spirit so bright and burning and infinite that even an enchanted mirror could not contain it. The other miko, Kikyou, was a bitter past molded of grave dirt and ashes to create a being of something that wasn't natural. Cold, hard, empty of anything but a revenge thirst that spilled out of her like tainted water from a diseased spring. Inu Yasha had tried to take Kagome- shining, burning with life and love _Kagome_ and force her into the dead miko's mold of hard-edged hate and sharp bitterness.

Then, he remembered Kagome as he'd last seen her, a broken sham of a girl who'd given too much of herself and became a mockery of a shadow.

His eyes dropped to his hands and he found a sudden, familiar regret in him for not chasing her and begging her to stay, to tell her that she shouldn't listen to that mutt 'cause she as herself was beyond what Kikyou could ever have hoped to have been. In his mind then, Kagome was perfect. That still rang true now, he mused as he remembered holding her earlier with his grown up arms, feeling her solid-fragile body superimpose with feeling the over-whelming time in his life where she hadn't been there. He'd almost cried with her, and would have if the stoic frost-bitten boulder that was Sesshoumaru hadn't been there.

Sesshoumaru watched the youngling examine his hands and knew that he was wallowing in the past. _Ahhh_he mused, _that becomes too easy the older we get. _Remembering the happier moments of times passed was one way to cope with the mundane life they lived now where they had become the stuff legends were made of, where the magic in the world was depleted and decaying into extinction. There where too few magic users nowadays to cycle the magic, no new blood for it to run through and be reborn. It was a horrible thing to have been born in a time ripe with magical currents, only to watch as those withered away beneath the weight of a world's disbelief and disuse. But, the taiyoukai conceded, such was the price of long life spans.

The kit had much more to learn about what dangers nostalgia and regret wrought. Regretting not having spent the time you had wished with loved ones better, not having said this or that… there was little one could do to stop the way things transpired and it was useless regretting what you could not have known would happen, nor stopped if you had. And there was little use in pointing fingers and laying blame. Sesshoumaru had learned this in the earliest few centuries of his quasi-immortal life. It had taken him nearly the entire sum of his adolescent years to realize this and let go the tangible bitterness he'd carried as a chip on his shoulder. The irony was that the creatures he had blamed and hated most for the downfall of his childhood were the very same creatures that taught him this lesson.

The lesson had been named Rin, and though Sesshoumaru never had the courage of heart in the past to say it then, he did now; she'd been the turning point in his life.

Sardonically smirking, he pulled himself back to the present and placed a firm hand on the kit's shoulder. Beneath his palm, he felt the kit jump and shudder. Then the wide green eyes were locked with his and the regrets of a lost lifetime swirled behind the jade irises thickly- a sludgy miasma.

"She is here now."

It had been the only thing the lord of the west had said; four simple words that reached to Shippo's heart and unchained it from its regrets. The young kit marveled at the power words could wield when spoken right. The power to heal, or the power to hurt.

Strange how Sesshoumaru, The Killing Perfection, was the one who healed and InuYasha was the one who destroyed when by all rights, it should have been the other way around. After all, Inu Yasha was the more human of the two and yet it was not so. Apparently, being human did not make one humane. Shippo smiled at the older male youkai and inclined his head to hide the sudden leap of hope in his eyes. Kagome needed someone solid and strong to pick her up and help her now, and by some odd chance she had ended up here with Sesshoumaru. Granite strength and steel solid Sesshoumaru who somehow had the knack to heal when he'd been born and named to kill. One couldn't say it to his face without some serious backlash because he was protective of his image that way but Sesshoumaru was a bit of a bleeding heart when it came to fragile creatures in need. A hard-ass to anyone and everyone at any given time, but dump a broken innocent in his lap and the supposedly cold-hearted taiyoukai did whatever he could do to help discretely (he disguised his intent by giving excuses or using his honor to hide behind- since caring was supposedly "weak"). Shippo couldn't name any person more innocent or hurt at this moment than Kagome was. She didn't know it yet, but there was no better place for her to be than here in Sesshoumaru's care at this moment.

As for the taiyoukai…well, Sesshoumaru was already caught. He was like some demented unicorn invariably drawn to a crying virgin in a dark forest. Bam- hook, line and sinker.

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AN: I'm sorry it's not much, but I tried to make up with quality in place of quantity. Ahu. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: An Artist's Intuition

**White Dogs: Perversity.**

Rating: PG-13, R for some parts  
Lyrics from: Sting's 'Why Must I Cry For You?', Jesus and Mary Chain's 'April Skies.'

Genre: Everything left of the middle. Beware the dry wit. And Sarcasm. Could be dangerous to your health.

Warnings: What could I warn you about? You'd STILL read this anyway.

Disclaimer: There is a state of being called "not owning." Thanks to Inu Yasha, I am in that state of being.

Summary: How could someone who spent so much time destroying now be someone who spent their time creating?

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"_The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."_

_-Aristotle._

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**Chapter Sixteen: An Artist's Intuition.**

_Sometimes I see your face,  
Stars seem to lose their place  
Why must I think of you?_

_Why must I?  
Why should I?  
Why should I cry for you?_

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In this world there are many things that are broken or damaged and in need of a careful touch to make them whole once again. However, they're not so easily fixed and not just anyone can fix them. For example, you would not take man who's craft was repairing little time pieces and sit him in front of, say, an ancient printing press and tell him to "fix it." He would not be able to. Just the same, you wouldn't have a plumber try his hand at performing neurosurgery. Such an endeavor would only end in tragedy. Suffice then to say that for each broken object there is a person with the touch best suited to fixing it. Only those with a certain knack for whichever field of rebuilding they happen to be in are truly successful, for while a plumber may _be_ a plumber, it doesn't necessarily mean he was _good _at it and that your pipes were guaranteed to be good as brand new. No, no, certainly not. This is what one would call a mediocre plumber, one who was not a master of his craft.

Of course, there are other things besides watches and piping or computers to be fixed. Those are not nearly as fragile as what other things breakable are. Take the human heart, for instance. Just as any other thing in the human world must need repairs now and then so too does the human heart, for while it provides us with life and strong emotion, it is still very delicate. Entirely too breakable. As is the human psyche. This is why there are such professions as councilors and psychiatrists. Their craft is Sigmund Freud's famed "Talking Remedy." And just as with the plumber, while there are some therapists who are good at what they do, they're not necessarily the master of their craft. Such talents are a rarity in human kind.

Which is why is it entirely odd for a youkai to have the ability to heal with words, where many humans fail.

That morning, Sesshoumaru sat at his quant little table in his cozy little kitchen and thought small thoughts, while the tea he held in his hands sent vapory figures into the air to dance. They were decidedly idle thoughts, for Sesshoumaru preferred them that way this early in the morning. Especially after a tangle with his bane of existence, a.k.a. Shippou, in the hours before daylight streaked the sky with paintbrush strokes skillful enough to render any mortal artist jealous.

Idle thoughts were easier to manage, easier to control. He pruned them to avoid their growth into something more then idle and cultivated them in order to keep them tame. They in turn kept his mind occupied, and were a more soothing habit for him then a simple cup of tea. After all, when one has lived a near millennia, one tends to have a want for a certain sort of soothing pattern to ones day. Sesshoumaru was no exception. He was a creature of habit, of routine.

Therefore, he sat at the tiny table and thought quiet, idle thoughts as he sipped his mint tea in his cozy kitchen. He reveled silently in the warm ice of the mint tea as it slid over his tongue, reveled in the calm and closeness of his kitchen atmosphere for he knew the calm would be ruptured once the other guests in his abode woke, and invaded the small nook and sent his orderly world into a spin.

Idle thoughts, idle thoughts.

_Idle__thoughts_, Kagome willed, _must_ _think_ _idle_ _thoughts_. Anything to keep her mind from venturing to Inu-Yasha and her newly self-appointed duty to the hanyou. Grey morning eyes flickered up to the skylights and the periwinkle sky beyond the glass and there locked on a swath of lilac crowned clouds as they rolled by on sun-scorched orange and pink bellies. The stunning contrast of colors on the same canvas of cloud made her pupils dilate in reaction, and she sighed at the pure beauty of them. What it must be like to be just a cloud looking down at the earth without having to be tied down by gravity's heavy burden; to have such natural, unassuming beauty that changed with the wind and weather but somehow stayed the same throughout it all.

Kagome so envied clouds in that one moment.

_Lucky things, _she pouted. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands hanging limply over her knees, Kagome was quite certain that the burden of a body was unfavorable. She felt quite heavy and tired, and staring up at the clouds as she was doing now was beginning to put a kink into her neck. She shifted, and felt her flesh stretch over her body, tight and restricting.

Her skin was too tight for her to fit in.

"I wish I could be a cloud," she confided to the quiet walls around her.

The walls did not answer and she knew they would guard her wish well and would not tell a soul. Shaking her head at her silliness, the girl came back down to earth and its troubles. Seated as she was on the foot of the bed, Kagome's legs hung over and down but still did not touch the wooden floor; the bed was either that tall or she was just that short. She hadn't figured out which was the truth yet, mostly because she didn't mind it. When one was on a tall bed or when one was short one could swing their legs without worry of scraping the floor with their toes or heels. Kagome was particular about swinging her legs; she enjoyed it, though she wasn't sure why she did, exactly.

So, Kagome sat on the bed and swung her coltish legs and the carefree nature of the act soothed her as she thought her idle, cloud-envious thoughts.

Clouds did not have skin.

Another thought occurred to her as she caught a whiff of herself, and her pert little nose wrinkled with her distaste.

_I really need a bath…_

"Uhm."

The timid little sound made Sesshoumaru look up from the bottom of his porcelain tea cup and mentally recoup from his thoughts about the meaning of existing (he didn't know how his idle thoughts had gotten so deep in such a short amount of time without his notice). One silver brow tilted upwards towards his bangs at the sight of a ragamuffin Kagome fidgeting in front of him. The sight was oddly endearing and the taiyoukai felt his usual hard as ice countenance soften just a little.

The little woman-child took the raised eyebrow as a prompt to say what was on her mind, so she did without further ado.

"I need a bath," said she, voice quiet and, as an afterthought added, "Really badly."

Unconsciously, Sesshoumaru's nostrils flared ever so slightly as he scented the air and, sure enough, Kagome's fresh scent was tainted by old, dried blood (a rusty, stale copper sort of odor) and the heavy repression of salt. The corners of his mouth took on a hint of a frown; he felt as though he'd somehow neglected her in some way. It wasn't a feeling he was familiar with, simply because of who he was.

As a host, Sesshoumaru was impeccably attuned to what was necessary for his guest's comfort. It had been as such when he was the Lord of the West and it had carried on through the decades. However, very few of his guest's had been injured prior their visit to his home, nor had they the privilege of being cared for by his very own hands.

Actually, come to think of it, he'd had very few guests in general and none of them had ever been harmed in any way before their arrival or during their stay (though that wasn't saying anything about _after _they had left his home). Had they been injured prior to their visitation, said guests more often then not had an attendance of servants to take care of such tasks. Therefore, his guests were entirely capable of taking care of their bathing needs and did so without his aid or notice.

Kagome, on the other hand, _was _injured and incapable of taking care of herself (as she proved time and time again) much less her bathing needs without some sort of assistance.

Sesshoumaru, being so used to not having to mind his guests, simply hadn't considered that Kagome would need assistance, or at the very least an easier way to cleanse herself without doing further damage to her wound. As for the scent of salt…

A nameless emotion percolated in his gut.

With a slight frown on his lips, the great taiyoukai looked back to Kagome. He gave her a small, firm nod as he set his tea cup down and stood from the table in a single economy of movement.

"Then a bath you shall have. But," Here, he held up a hand to stay Kagome's flight to the bathroom down the hall, "it will need be only a sponge bath. Come, I will assist you."

"Uhm…What?" She asked, thinking that she'd heard wrong, but that assumption was flung out the window when she realized he had said it and he had meant it.

'_Sponge bath?_ _Assist me?'_ For one wild moment her mind was filled with unquestionably indecent dreams that were, dare she say, erotic. Kagome felt the heat flare in her cheeks and even her ears felt like they were on fire. Desperately, the girl pinched and tugged at her earlobes, hoping the physical stimulus would distract her from her naughty imaginings and return her blood pressure to normal.

'_Ohmigosh.__I'm horrible!' _ Why was there never a convenient hole in the ground when one needed to fall into it? Honestly.

While so preoccupied with chastising herself and hoping for a nice abyss to plummet down, Sesshoumaru had made out like a regular Houdini and had disappeared into the bathroom, busy with gathering the needed supplies from the hidden niche therein. Very mild soap, which he had in stock merely because he had a sensitive nose and found that anything more than mild burned the soft olfactory tissues something wicked; a fresh new towel, as well as a soft beige sponge.

All were gathered without the flustered girl's notice.

Setting his bounty on the black marble counter top of the sink, he backtracked to the kitchen where Kagome was still pinching her earlobes and making the most _interesting _face Sesshoumaru had seen in ages; a cross between concentration and supreme mortification, with a splash of horror mixed in for good measure. He smirked, noting the pink hue glowing in the apples of her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, easily guessing on what thoughts she was flirting with. Swaddled as she was in his clothing and blushing in such a way, the once Taiyoukai could only think of how becoming and confoundedly innocent she looked.

_Ah, right… jailbait. That way lie dragons. _He re-directed his mind and cleared his throat for her attention, then had to fight the intense urge to smirk again when the little bird's surprise jarred a squeak out of her pale throat. She wobbled a moment, one hand clutching the fabric over her heart like a life line and gave him the evil eye.

"Don't _do _that!" She hissed, on the edge of hysteria.

He feigned ignorance, "Do what?" The perfect blank canvas of his expression gave nothing away but his eyes sold him out with the way they glinted in amusement.

"The ninja thing! With the sneaking off and the teleporting around all silent like!" One delicate finger was leveled at his chest as she made her statement. Her snapping grey eyes caught the humor glinting at her like forbidden treasure in a dark cave from his eyes and she hastily added, "And stop laughing at me!"

The girl teetered closer to the edge she tried to escape from with humor.

"Hn," the corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he turned back down the hall, "Well? Do you want a bath or not, girl?" Off he went without further ado.

Kagome floundered in his wake, then scuttled after him, subdued by the way he'd addressed her.

_Girl.__What's so damn hard about calling me 'Kagome'?_

How easily she was filed and categorized away like some document and not a true person deserving of a unique identification. She felt her skin tearing all around her, and grasped at straws to save herself.

Vaguely, she pondered over how the Sesshoumaru of the past would handle a crowd of humans. In her mind's eye, she saw him looming over the diminutive statures of a gaggle of village women, all of whom were unrealistically giggling over his supreme good looks and finery, edging in closer to his person as he tried in vain to order them back and failing. Seems even an imaginary Sesshoumaru didn't fancy being molested.

"_Human, you better STEP OFF if you know what's good for you. No, not YOU, you wench, the other one. … Hey! Let go of my fluffy!" _The mockery of Sesshoumaru's voice echoed in her head. Of course, it went without saying that he'd _never_ say anything _like_ that, much less call the pelt he'd carried with him his "fluffy", but it was still a funny thought. Kagome snickered loudly, caught herself with an 'eep', and covered her mouth with both her hands.

The backs of her eyes burned in omen.

Up ahead, Sesshoumaru's right ear twitched at the strangled sound of mirth, and he felt a trill of warmth filter around his chest.

_So there is laughter yet in her, _the once-lord mused as the barest suggestion of a smile lilted at the corner of his firm mouth. He looked over his shoulder at her, lifted one aristocratic eyebrow and was satisfied by the answering blush on the miko's partially hidden face. The scent of salt seemed out of place, though it was there nonetheless.

Subdued laughter though it was, it was a start and Sesshoumaru found himself of the desire to hear her laughter again, to see her smile truly. She was a creature made to smile, and to laugh. Looking over his shoulder at the small pixie-like form behind him, he could almost see through her to her insides where she was falling apart and held together only by pale flesh and spider work veins. She was dark inside where once there had been the bright flame of a soul that had pressed against her skin with all the ebb and flow of an ocean. Now there was a void.

Yet, she had begun to laugh. There was hope.

"Kagome."

Mourning dove grey eyes met his, and his stomach clenched oddly. Her eyes…

"Laughter suits you. Do not stifle it." His voice calm, sincere. The command hidden within the sincerity.

The once aristocratic assassin's reward was a small smile held together by confused wonder that collapsed under the weight of the tears in her eyes, and twin arms folding around his middle in the grip of a girl's desperation to be held upright. The hot tears wet the fabric over his heart and soaked into his skin as his arms curled around her in reflex, one clawed hand coming to cradle her head against his chest. He imagined fine cracks and fractures racing across her skin as she seemed ready to fall apart against him.

The demon pulled her closer, tighter against him still, fiercely wanting to fill her emptiness with something solid. To keep her from shattering there as he held her.

He wanted to fill her with himself.

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_And the world comes tumbling down  
Hand in hand in a violent life  
Making love on the edge of a knife  
And the world comes tumbling down…_

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Review Responses: Aw god, I ♥ you all. No really, I do. (It sincerely touches my heart for all these beautiful reviews. It also helps that I haven't been skinned alive yet for my slacking. Damn. Bad Silver, **bad**.)

A.N: This chapter, I must be honest, was easy and hard at the same time. It was easy since I knew what I wanted to do with it, but hard in that I didn't have a good way to get there. This is the result of months worth of trying and failing and finally succeeding but only partially. Hence, I think this chapter is going to be a Part One Part Two thing. I would have joined parts one and two to make a complete chapter but I've kept you waiting long enough. Hopefully, the second have of this chapter won't give me such a hernia.


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